cosplay in australia: (re)creation and creativity assemblage and … · 2015. 9. 18. · cosplay in...

Cosplay in Australia: (Re)creation andCreativityAssemblage and Negotiation in a Material andPerformative Practice

Claire Langsford

Supervisors: Dr. Andrew Skuse and Dr. Dianne Rodger

December 2014

Thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor in Philosophy in 2014.

Discipline of Anthropology,School of Social Sciences,Faculty of Arts,University of Adelaide

Declaration

I certify that this work contains no material which has been accepted for the award ofany other degree or diploma in my name, in any university or other tertiary institutionand, to the best of my knowledge and belief, contains no material previously publishedor written by another person, except where due reference has been made in the text. Inaddition, I certify that no part of this work will, in the future, be used in a submission inmy name, for any other degree or diploma in any university or other tertiary institutionwithout the prior approval of the University of Adelaide.

I give consent to this copy of my thesis, when deposited in the University Library, beingmade available for loan and photocopying, subject to the provisions of the CopyrightAct 1968.

I also give permission for the digital version of my thesis to be made available on theweb, via the University’s digital research repository, the Library Search and also throughweb search engines.

Signed by candidate:

Date:

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Images

Except where stated all photographs are the author’s own. All other photographs areused with permission.

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Dedication

In this thesis I have argued that cultural products are never produced in social isolation.Perhaps this argument may also apply to the production of a thesis. Thank you to allthe cosplayers, photographers, convention organisers and attendees who I interviewed,photographed and allowed me to hang out with them. Special thanks to members ofTeam AVCon past and present, and to the Australian Costumers’ Guild. Extra specialthanks to The Con Artists. You guys taught me the ‘real’ way to experience conventionsand together we learnt so much about c-c-cosplay.

Thank you to the staff and students of the Anthropology Department at the University ofAdelaide, particularly all those who regularly attended seminars and coffee. Thanks toDr. Deane Fergie for introducing me to practice and community of practice approaches.Thanks especially to Dr. Susan Hemer as Postgraduate Co-ordinator who helped methrough the most challenging moments.

Thank you to my current supervisors Dr. Andrew Skuse and Dr. Dianne Rodger fortheir detailed feedback and for coralling my wild theoretical notions into a functioningthesis.

Thanks to my family who will be as glad as I am that this document is finally fin-ished.

And, thanks of course to Patrick Korbel who kept frustratingly pointing out the agencyand individuality of cosplayers and the variety in cosplay practice. Without your annoy-ing insight this might have been a very different thesis.

(In the spirit of Gell (1998), thank you to my sewing machine and my portable hard-drives. Without you none of this would have been possible.)

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Abstract

Cosplay, or ‘costume–play’, is a practice centred upon the assembly and performanceof costumes based on pre–existing character designs. This craft and performance prac-tice has its origins in cross–cultural exchange between Japan the United States, and iscurrently enacted by practitioners in many countries, including Australia. Features oflocalised cosplay practice appear to challenge and contradict models of practice fre-quently adopted by anthropologists and sociologists. While traditional models tend toemphasise the role of social structures in the reproduction of practices and characterisepractices as developing slowly over time, the practice of cosplay in Australia appears tobe highly fragmented, individualised and dynamic. Despite this evanescence, fragmen-tation, individualisation and variation cosplay exists as a recognisable practice and hasproduced communities of practitioners who identify as ‘cosplayers’.

Drawing on my ethnographic fieldwork within Australian communities of practice, Iexplore the (re)creation of dynamic, heterogeneous and ephemeral cosplay practice.Utilising an assemblage of perspectives from anthropologies of material culture andperformance, two disciplines which have emerged out of post–structuralist interest inpractice and process, I characterise the practice of cosplay in Australia as a series ofassembly, negotiation and distribution processes. Through an ethnographic explorationof how ‘practices–as–performances’ recreate ‘practices–as–entities’ Reckwitz (2002);Schatzki et al. (2000), I argue that anthropological material culture and performanceapproaches to practice can expand and challenge traditional generalist models of prac-tice, and provide a more comprehensive understanding of practices that are diverse,ephemeral and more loosely structured.

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Contents

1 Introduction 11.1 Practice and Anthropologies of Performance, Craft and Consumption . 51.2 Long-term Routinization and Evanescent Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . 61.3 Structure and Improvisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71.4 The Problem of Variation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81.5 Understanding Dynamic and Heterogenous Practice: Assemblage, Ne-

gotiation and Distribution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101.6 Assemblage and Distribution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111.7 Negotiation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151.8 The Structure of the Thesis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171.9 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

2 Locating the field: How methodological challenges uncovered a theoreticalproblem 212.1 A Globalised Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222.2 Placing the Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272.3 Events as Observer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282.4 Difficulties Getting ‘Backstage’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322.5 Decision to Participate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332.6 Online Participation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372.7 Participants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 382.8 Conclusion: From Field to Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

3 How to Cosplay: Performing Cosplay Aesthetic Values at Convention Pan-els 45

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xii CONTENTS

3.1 The Panel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 463.2 The Performance of Cosplay Values and Skilled Vision . . . . . . . . . 473.3 Who Teaches? Who Listens?: Establishing Authority . . . . . . . . . . 513.4 Accuracy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 543.5 Completism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 583.6 Spectacle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 613.7 Amateurism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 653.8 Creativity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 683.9 Conclusion: Cosplay Values and Aesthetics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70

4 (re)Creating the Costume; (re)Creating the Cosplayer 734.1 Copying, Creation and Creativity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 774.2 Stages of the Assembly Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 804.3 Choosing the Cosplay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 824.4 Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 864.5 Collecting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 934.6 Mess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 954.7 Testing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1004.8 Conclusion: Objectifications, Creativity and Practice . . . . . . . . . . 103

5 Looking Right, Feeling Pain: The Costumed Body and the Negotiation ofCosplay Values 1055.1 Bodies in Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1105.2 Monstrous Bodies and Bodies as Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1125.3 Body as Object in Body Projects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1185.4 Body as Object in Social Dressing Activities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1255.5 The Problem of the Painful Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1295.6 Body as Object in Competition Narratives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1325.7 Challenging the Body as Costume Object . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1355.8 Conclusion: Body Debates and the Recreation of Practice . . . . . . . . 139

6 Playing in Costume, Framing the Performance 1436.1 Performances in Times and Spaces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1476.2 Getting Into Character . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1526.3 Playing the Craftsperson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167

CONTENTS xiii

6.4 Performing Sexiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1736.5 Conclusion: Framing the Chaos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

7 Performing the Self as Cosplay Master 1857.1 The Assemblage, Negotiation and Distribution of Mastery . . . . . . . 1887.2 Competition Events and the Performance of Community Values . . . . 1927.3 Interviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1967.4 Skits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2047.5 The Distribution of Mastery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2087.6 Conclusion: Assembling and Distributing a Master . . . . . . . . . . . 210

8 ‘Pics, or It Didn’t Happen’: Photography and the (re)Creation of Cosplay 2138.1 Photography and the (Re)Creation of Community . . . . . . . . . . . . 2158.2 The Photographer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2178.3 The Profile Picture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2248.4 Final Fantasies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2298.5 Doctor Who??! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2358.6 Tutorial Photography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2408.7 Conclusion: Happening Things – Assembled Objects and Distributed

Selves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244

9 Conclusion: Creativity and the (re)Creation of Practice and Practice Theo-ries 247

xiv CONTENTS

List of Figures

1.1 Recreation with Variation (Photograph by Patrick Korbel) . . . . . . . . 2

2.1 Jane working at home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

3.1 “Delphox” (Photograph by Patrick Korbel) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 623.2 Spectacular breastplate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64

4.1 “Kusuri–uri” (Photograph by Corey Newcombe) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 744.2 “Juri” cosplays (Photographs by Patrick Korbel) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 904.3 “Fluttershy” (Photograph by Patrick Korbel) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 924.4 Wig . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 964.5 Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98

5.1 “White Queen” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1065.2 “Master Chief” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1085.3 Cat Head . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1165.4 “Jack Skellington” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1175.5 “Kusuri–uri” (Photograph by Corey Newcombe) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1195.6 Steampunk “Jack” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1205.7 Dressing transformation sequence – #1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1265.8 Dressing transformation sequence – #2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1275.9 Daniel in pain (Photograph by Patrick Korbel) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131

6.1 Dynasty Warriors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1446.2 Map of AVCon from 2011 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1486.3 “Sand Person” and photographers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1506.4 Sengoku Basara cosplayer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153

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xvi LIST OF FIGURES

6.5 Fan sequence - photo #1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1546.6 Fan sequence - photo #2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1556.7 Fan sequence - photo #3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1566.8 Cat and Rabbit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1586.9 Daniel and “Dalek” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1616.10 “Ezio” and “Bane” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1626.11 Renee as “Jessica Rabbit” (Photograph by Emmanuel Photakis) . . . . 174

8.1 “Elf King” (Photograph by Patrick Korbel) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2148.2 Photographers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2188.3 Photographers at Oz Comic–Con (Photograph by Patrick Korbel) . . . . 2218.4 Ethnographer as “Kusuri–uri” (Photograph by Corey Newcombe) . . . 2258.5 Final fantasies (Photograph by Nathan from IGotSuperpowers) . . . . . 2308.6 Julia’s belt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2328.7 Ashton as “Doctor Who” (Original photograph by Maetography) . . . . 2368.8 Panel with PowerPoint slide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241

Chapter 1

Introduction

Dressed in a long, flowing blonde wig, a handmade dress of Italian crepe and carryinga small plastic dragon, I wandered the exhibitors’ hall at Adelaide’s Supanova popularculture convention. I was ‘cosplaying’ as “Daenerys Targaryen”1 from the HBO televi-sion series Game of Thrones. I had taken over a month assembling the outfit, includingsewing the dress and sculpting the dragon, and I was keen to parade my handiwork amidthe crowds of the convention.

Just outside a comic book stall I caught sight of another woman, also dressed as “Daen-erys”. She too wore a blonde wig but her dress was blue with golden features hand–wrought from thermoplastic. Instead of carrying a plastic dragon this “Daenerys” waspushing a pram in which was seated a toddler, dressed in a tiny dragon costume.

Our eyes met and she ushered me over. She told her partner, who was dressed asDaenery’s attendant “Jorah Mormont”, to take a photograph of the two Daenerysesposing together. We chatted, exchanged compliments and smiled as “Jorah” took thepicture.

At that moment another blonde–wigged “Daenerys” cosplayer strolled into view. Shewas also pushing a pram with another toddler dragon seated inside. We invited her tojoin us and more photographs were taken. By now a small group of convention attendeeshad gathered to photograph the three of us posing together.

1Throughout the thesis I will use quotation marks to indicate character names.

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2 CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION

Figure 1.1: Recreation with Variation (Photograph by Patrick Korbel)

A few minutes had passed when yet another “Daenerys” cosplayer happened on thescene. This cosplayer was wearing quite a different outfit of torn leathers and a bedrag-gled blonde wig. A dragon brooch was pinned to her chest.

In less than ten minutes four “Daenerys” cosplayers, previously unknown to each other,had assembled for an improvised photo shoot. Images of us posing together wererecorded by more than ten photographers. Photographs of this moment were later sharedon the social networking site Facebook where they received comments and ‘likes’.

This photograph Figure 1.1 highlights the striking similarities and differences in ourassembled costumes. Certain features are common: we are all wearing blonde wigs withsubtle style variations, all of us are bare shouldered and each of our assemblages featuressome representation of a dragon one on a brooch, two in the form of accompanyingsmall children dressed in dragon costumes who are seated in the prams, and one inthe form of a plastic model dragon. Aside from these similarities the costumes areconsiderably varied with different colours, shapes and textures. Those very familiar

3

with the television series may recognise that two of the women are recreating a particularcostume from Season One, while the two other women are recreating separate outfitsfrom Season Two. Despite these visual differences we all mutually recognised eachother immediately as performing the same character. That we were all ‘cosplaying’ as“Daenerys Targaryen”. The spectators and photographers also recognised our variousinterpretations as representations of the same character.

This photograph provides a micro example of the recreation and creativity that are cen-tral to an understanding of the practice of cosplay. The term cosplay (kosupure) is be-lieved to be Japanese in origin, a portmanteau word combining the English words ‘cos-tume’ and ‘play’ (Lunning, 2011). Cosplay is an activity centred upon the assembly andperformance of costumes based on pre–existing character designs. These designs, aretypically but not exclusively, sourced from popular culture texts films, television series,Western comics, Japanese manga and anime, and videogames. Driven by an affinity forthe character or its source text, an admiration for the aesthetics of the character design,or by the desire to create a costume that is valued by the community, cosplayers, thosewho practice cosplay, can spend considerable time, effort and money in the attemptto recreate character designs in the form of wearable costumes (Lunning, 2011; Ok-abe, 2012). Growing in popularity in the early decades of the twenty–first century, thepractice has developed through globalised exchanges of images, materials, aesthetics,competences and practitioners (Winge, 2006; Lamerichs, 2011; Lunning, 2011; Peirson-Smith, 2013).

This thesis is largely inspired by an issue that I encountered while undertaking field-work within Australian cosplay communities of practice. I commenced fieldwork withinAustralian cosplay communities intending to examine the localisation of a globalisedJapanese material culture. However, as I will describe in greater detail in Chapter 2, Iquickly began to realise the complexity and dynamism of the field. I became aware thatfeatures of this localised practice appeared to challenge and contradict models of prac-tice frequently adopted by anthropologists and sociologists. While models of practiceproposed by Bourdieu (1990), Giddens (1984) and others (Shove et al., 2012) tend toemphasise the role of social structures in the reproduction of practices and characterisepractices as developing slowly over time, the practice of cosplay in Australia appears tobe highly fragmented, individualised and dynamic. Despite this evanescence, fragmen-tation, individualisation and variation cosplay does exist as a recognisable practice and


has produced communities of practitioners who identify as ‘cosplayers’.

This thesis will explore the (re)creation of dynamic, heterogeneous and ephemeral prac-tice in cosplay within Australian communities of practice. Drawing on an assemblageof perspectives from anthropologies of material culture and performance, two disci-plines which have emerged out of post–structuralist interest in practice and process, Icharacterise the practice of cosplay in Australia as a series of assembly, negotiationand distribution processes. Through an ethnographic exploration of how ‘practicesas–performances’ recreate ‘practices–as–entities’ (Reckwitz, 2002; Schatzki et al., 2000),I argue that anthropological material culture and performance approaches to practicecan expand and challenge traditional generalist models of practice, and provide a morecomprehensive understanding of practices that are diverse, ephemeral and more looselystructured.

Despite thousands of participants engaging in the practice each year, cosplay in Aus-tralia is an under–researched practice. However, as this thesis will demonstrate, a studyof this developing, dynamic and heterogeneous practice provides an excellent contextfor exploring the limitations and explanatory power of concepts of ‘practice’ (Bour-dieu, 1990; Giddens, 1984; Shove et al., 2012) and ‘community of practice’ (Lave andWenger, 1991). With an ethnographic focus on the production of costume objects,performances and photographs, this thesis draws together practice, performance andmaterial culture perspectives to highlight the assemblage, distribution and negotiationprocesses involved in cultural production.

These insights have developed from ethnographic research which involved considerablepersonal participation, including the co–creation of cultural products. Becoming a prac-titioner enabled me to follow this distributed and dynamic practice and to connect theflows of sites, practitioners, goods, knowledges and aesthetics. In this manner I wasable explore the assembly, negotiation and distribution of practice.

1.1. PRACTICE AND ANTHROPOLOGIES OF PERFORMANCE, CRAFT AND CONSUMPTION5

1.1 Practice and Anthropologies of Performance, Craftand Consumption

Cosplay can be considered as a craft, dress and performance practice, a recognisable‘continuous entity’ (Giddens, 1984), with specific aesthetic values, forms and activitieswhich are reproduced globally through localised expressions and performances. Recentpractice theories emphasise that disparate elements individuals, communities, materi-als, competences and meanings come to be associated through practice (Schatzki, 1996;Reckwitz, 2002; Warde, 2005; Shove et al., 2012). These associations are said to be cre-ated and recreated through performances. Fundamental to practice theories is the ideathat ‘practices as entities’, patterns of behaviour, enacted in a recognisably consistentmanner across different spatial and temporal contexts, are created and recreated through‘practices as performances’, the moments and instances where particular practices areenacted (Schatzki, 1996; Reckwitz, 2002; Warde, 2005; Shove et al., 2012). The lo-calised everyday actions of individuals are thereby connected with the production ofpatterns of human activity which can be reproduced across geographical locations overa considerable period of time.

Over the last four decades practice approaches have been influential within anthropol-ogy (Ortner, 1984; Ahearn, 2012). Theories of practice, including models proposed byBourdieu’s (1990) and Giddens’s (1984), and the concept of ‘community of practice’developed by Lave and Wenger (1991) have been particularly influential within an-thropological studies of consumption, material culture and performance. These studiesemerged in the same Post-Structuralist contexts as practice theories and share a commonfocus on process (Mitchell, 2009; Morris, 1995). For anthropology, practice approacheshave provided a means of connecting the ‘everyday’, lived experiences and actions ofindividuals with broader themes, movements and trends on the level of communityor society (Ortner, 1984). Material culture and performance studies have used Bour-dieu’s (1990) concept of ‘habitus’ to explore the transmission of embodied knowledgein crafts like glass-blowing (O’Connor, 2005) and house-building (Marchand, 2010)and in performance forms like classical ballet (Aaltern, 1997; Turner and Wainwright,2003). Lave and Wenger (1991) concept of communities of practice has been used toexplore the development of practitioner identities and the creation and reproduction ofcommunity values, skills and knowledge in contexts as diverse as drag queen perfor-


mance (Ronzon, 2007) and Japanese pottery (Singleton, 1998).

However, practice approaches are not without explanatory limitations. Many theoristshave argued that models of practice which have been highly influential within anthro-pology and sociology, including Bourdieu’s (1990) concept of ‘habitus’ and Giddens’(1984) processes of structuration, do not provide adequate explanations for change, di-versity, and evanescence within a particular practice (Warde, 2005; Schatzki et al., 2000;Reckwitz, 2002; Shove et al., 2012). Bourdieu’s and Giddens’ models are useful in ex-plaining how structuration occurs, or how structures are reproduced, but are less usefulin explaining variation, creativity and change, particularly within a specific practice(Sewell, 1992).

1.2 Long-term Routinization and Evanescent Practice

Both Bourdieu’s model of habitus and Giddens’ processes of structuration see practicesas developing slowly as competences and meanings become associated through rou-tinized performances, and in the case of Bourdieu’s habitus are inscribed upon the bod-ies of practitioners, over a long duration of time (Bourdieu, 1990; Giddens, 1984). Thisidea of the gradual development of practice is echoed in Ortner’s (2006) characterisationof practice theory as a theory of history in which structures can be seen to develop andunfold over time. Long-term routinization is also central to Lave and Wenger’s (1991)concept of practice communities as the authors argue that full membership and partic-ipation in a practice community is contingent upon a newcomer spending considerabletime acquiring knowledge and skills as a legitimate peripheral participant. Conceptsof practice which emphasise development through long–term routinization have greaterexplanatory power when applied to the well-established traditions and activities oftenfeatured in anthropological studies of craft, dress and performance.

As a practice which arguably originated in the early twentieth–century and has onlybeen globally popularised since the millennium, cosplay’s development by contrast hasbeen rapid and multidirectional. Second and third generation practitioners are only be-ginning to emerge. As I will explore further in Chapter 5 there is no restricted or cohe-sive set of craft or performative techniques specifically associated with cosplay. Insteadin their construction and performance of costumes cosplayers may draw upon an ex-

1.3. STRUCTURE AND IMPROVISATION 7

tensive body of craft and performance techniques from sewing to leatherwork, plasticsmoulding, puppetry and acrobatics. Cosplayers may acquire a new suite of skills andknowledge for each costume project. Cosplayers are not repeating and re–performingthe same embodied activities in the manner suggested by concepts of longterm rou-tinization.

Posing another challenge to routinization is the fragmentation of the practice. The globalmovement and exchange of cosplay goods and ideas is complex and multi-directionalbetween Japan and the United States, Europe, South East Asia and Australia. Evenwithin Australian contexts cosplay is highly fragmented. The practice is located in po-tentially thousands of sites which hold only a tenuous connection with one another.Much of the costume construction and assembly work carried out by cosplayers takesplace in the private domestic spaces of their own homes. As I shall explore in greaterdepth in Chapter 8, online spaces are another important site of practice. However theseonline spaces are also diverse and fragmented as much of the action is centred uponthe individual social networking profiles of individual cosplayers. Cosplayers come to-gether to perform their costumes at temporary events competitions and popular cultureconventions held at various times throughout the year. This fragmentation restricts thedevelopment of formal and enduring structural organisation. Cosplay is Australia isdynamic and evanescent. The practice is conducted at temporary performance eventsand in updating and changing digital sites. Although, as I will argue throughout thisthesis, cosplay can become an important aspect of practitioners’ everyday lives and canbe mundane as well as occasional and spectacular, the practice is far from routinized inthe manner suggested by traditional models of practice.

1.3 Structure and Improvisation

Existing models of practice also have difficulty in accounting for change and improvi-sation(Sewell, 1992). Critics of Bourdieu’s habitus have argued that the model givestoo much weight to structure (Sewell, 1992; King, 2000; Warde, 2005). They argue thatBourdieu’s model, in which structures are inscribed upon the bodies of agents to theextent where structures are experienced as embodied and largely unconscious, does notaccount for the possibility of structural change or variation in practices (Sewell, 1992;


King, 2000; Ahearn, 2012). It has been argued that the strength of the structure in habi-tus actually contradict Bourdieu’s own emphasis on the improvisation of agents in otherwritings (King, 2000).

Formal organisations, clubs and associations appear to only loosely structure the prac-tice. While organisations such as the Australian Costumers’ Guild do exist and play anactive role in local communities, membership of such a club is not necessary to partic-ipate in cosplay or the community of practice. There are no formal training or recruit-ment processes for cosplayers and no regular schools or classes. Rather, as I will demon-strate throughout this thesis, cosplay knowledge and skills are shared through perfor-mances and through the production and distribution of online written, photographicand video material. Knowledge, competences and meanings related to the practice ofcosplay are not strongly regulated by organisations but are instead produced and repro-duced in the practices, performances and products of individuals and small, localisedcommunities.

Both Bourdieu’s and Giddens’ models tend to emphasise consensus and easy transmis-sion of knowledges and structures (Warde, 2005). This fails to acknowledge that withinpractices conventions are regularly challenged and debated (Warde, 2005, p.140–141),or to recognise that structures themselves may be comprised of contradictory elements(Sewell, 1992). A heavy emphasis on structuration also tends to downplay impro-visatory aspects of practice as practitioners adapt to changes, new materials and newcontexts.

1.4 The Problem of Variation

Arguably the best recent attempt to address the question of practice, change and vari-ation has been provided by Shove et al. (2012) in The Dynamics of Social Practice:Everyday Life and How it Changes. These authors characterise practice as ‘dynamic’,constantly changing and innovative. Their concept of practice avoids some of rigidityof previous models though their characterisation of practices as being comprised of in-terconnected ‘elements’ after Reckwitz (2002). They argue that a practice is createdthrough the forming of associations between three elements: 1) materials resources,physical objects, tools, 2) competences knowledges, skills and techniques, and 3) mean-

1.4. THE PROBLEM OF VARIATION 9

ings ideas, values, and symbols (Shove et al., 2012, p.14). According to their model,new practices are created when particular relationships are established between specificmaterials, competences and meanings. These associations are established and strength-ened through the constant repetition of performance acts. When any of these elementsare changed or altered the practice itself is often altered: changes in technology, the de-sign or availability of particular materials; the necessity and accessibility of particularskill sets; or alterations of the meanings associated with a particular activity may allpotentially transform a practice. Practices are invented, made obsolete and reinventedwhen links between particular materials, meanings and competences are made, brokenand reforged. The association of old materials with new meanings, or new materialswith pre–existing meanings and competences, continually creates variations on existingpractices or new practices entirely.

With their ‘elemental’ model the authors have indeed created a more dynamic conceptof practice with greater potential for explaining how particular practices come to beformed, maintained and dissolved within historical and cultural contexts. The modelalso provides an explanation of the durability and importance of particular practicesand the brevity and transience of others as the authors, echoing Giddens (1984), arguethat practices which are performed or reproduced everyday are those which endure thelongest and play the greatest role in practitioners’ lives. While the elemental modelprovides potential explanations of practice–wide innovation and change it fails to morefully address subtler variations and changes within practices.

As the aforementioned photograph Figure 1.1 demonstrates the cultural products of cos-play can be extremely diverse. Costumes can be inspired by a myriad of texts, and canbe constructed from a broad range of materials, using a variety of techniques. Perfor-mances can take many forms and incorporate many other theatrical genres includingmime, dance, singing and acrobatics. Photographic and video styles are also diversewith a range of photographic genres evident within the practice. How can a model ofpractice account for stylistic diversity?

Despite its apparent dynamism, evanescence and diversity, cosplay in Australia doesexist as a recognisable, continuous entity. A recognisable shared aesthetic has devel-oped, individual practitioners develop ongoing identities as ‘cosplayers’, and distinctivecommunities of practice are maintained at local and national levels. A set of valuesconcerning the nature of cosplay and how it should be practiced are both recreated


and debated. Cosplayers participate in organised competitions where competitors, theircostumes and performances are evaluated against each other. How can such varied ac-tivities, objects and performances, produced and enacted in multiple locations all cometo be associated with the entity cosplay? A study of cosplay communities of practicein Australia provide an opportunity for an examination of practice itself. How are prac-tices as entities created by practices as performances? How do the micro actions ofcosplayers and the products they make create ‘cosplay’ the entity? Can an explorationof “practices as performances” help to reintroduce dynamism, variety and change intomodels of practice?

1.5 Understanding Dynamic and Heterogenous Practice:Assemblage, Negotiation and Distribution

To attempt to explain the practice of cosplay in Australia I have developed an adaptedmodel of practice. Drawing on my observations from the field, I characterise the prac-tice of cosplay in Australia as a series of assembly and distribution processes. Theseprocesses each involve the coming together, distribution and negotiation of various ele-ments: material things, individual practitioners and communities, and result in creationof cultural products: costume objects, performances and photography. These elementscome to be meaningfully associated through practice, both physically and symbolically.Associations between elements are assembled and also distributed. Like Gell’s (1998)distributed or extended objects, the associations between assembled elements can en-dure across space and time. These associations can also be dissolved or broken.

These assembly and distribution processes occur at many levels throughout the prac-tice. Materials, competences, practitioner agency and shared community aesthetics areassembled in the production of costume objects. Photographs of these objects, narra-tives of its construction and often the objects’ physical components are later distributedback into the community. In performances physical spaces, the embodied actions of per-formers and the interpretations of audiences are assembled and photographs, videos andnarratives of these performances are later circulated through the community. These pho-tographs are themselves produced through an assembly of performers, objects, spaces,photographers and the values of the community. On a broader level, the creation of

1.6. ASSEMBLAGE AND DISTRIBUTION 11

local, national and international communities of practice involves the assembly of indi-vidual practitioners, materials, spaces, and technologies.

As any cosplayer is well aware, assemblage can be a messy process. Various elementsdo not always cohere easily. Every process of assembly and distribution involves nego-tiation: individuals wrestle with the materiality of objects, spaces and their own bodies.In the production of costume objects and performances individual practitioners are inconstant negotiation with a wider community. The aesthetic and ethical values sharedwithin local cosplay communities are not static but are constantly negotiated. As I willexplore in further detail in Chapters 5 and 6, constant negotiation is a particularly strongfeature of Australian cosplay communities of practice due to the weaker role of struc-tures evident in the practice.

The cultural products of cosplay: costumes, performances and photographs are theproducts of these assembly, distribution and negotiation processes. They have beenassembled by practitioners and are often the result of collaboration between cosplay-ers and others including spectators and photographers. Cosplay costumes, photographsand performances objectify or enact the processes and negotiations undertaken by theircreators.

1.6 Assemblage and Distribution

My use of assemblage is partly drawn from the field itself. Within art theory ‘assem-blages’ are pieces constructed through the combination of found objects (Waldman andMatisse, 1992). Created from pre–existing images, texts and a wide variety of objectsand techniques, cosplay costumes and performances can be considered as assemblagesin this sense. Truong (2013, p.5) characterises cosplay as being comprised of intercon-nected elements: body activities; objects; knowledges; emotions; and intentions. Thepractice of cosplay itself can be seen as an assemblage.

Marcus and Saka (2006, p.101) have argued that the use of the term ‘assemblage’ inanthropological work is commonly used to characterise social phenomena in an attemptto acknowledge social phenomena that are ‘ephemeral’, ‘emergent’, ‘evanescent’, ‘de-centered’ and ‘heterogenous’. They critique the use of the term in a nebulous man-


ner which they argue renders the concept a rather ineffective theoretical tool (Marcusand Saka, 2006). My use of assemblage here, however, is developed out of themesarising in several strands of theory practice theories, contemporary material cultureapproaches, performance studies and community of practice literature which I shall at-tempt to weave together. My characterisation of cosplay practices in Australia is itselfa theoretical assemblage.

My starting point is Shove et al.’s (2012) ‘elemental’ model of practice. As in the modelof practice proposed by Shove and her collaborators, I characterise the (re)creation ofcosplay as an entity as occurring through the assembly of various elements in practiceas performances. However, in an attempt to re–focus attention on the roles of individ-ual practitioners and communities in developing and recreating a practice my proposed‘elements of practice’ are somewhat different. I portray the practice of cosplay as beingassembled through the association and negotiation of materials, meanings, competences,practitioners and communities.

A common critique of generalising practice theories is that they do not give sufficientattention to agency (Holland et al., 1998; Ahearn, 2012). As a corrective, my model ofcosplay practice is also influenced by anthropological literature addressing the role ofcommunities and individuals in the creation and recreation of practice. These theoristsemphasise that in order to fully understand the creation and recreation of practice it isnecessary to explore the roles of both societies/communities and individuals in theseprocesses (Holland et al., 1998; Miller, 2009; Ahearn, 2012).

Anthropological material culture literature can be used to support the idea of the practiceof cosplay in Australia as a series of assembly and distribution processes in a number ofways. Firstly, material culture approaches have long acknowledged material things asdynamic and changeable and that the relationships forged between objects, individualsand communities can be enduring or temporary. The renewed anthropological interestin material culture in the late nineteen–eighties coincided with both an interest in themovement and transformation of objects through processes of globalisation and con-sumption and the development of practice approaches (Mitchell, 2009, p.384). Thecharacterisation of material culture as dynamic and changeable is reflected in Appadu-rai’s (1986) notion of the ‘social life of things’, and in Miller’s (1987) processes of‘objectification’ (Mitchell, 2009, p.385).There is also an understanding within muchof the post–structuralist literature on material culture that relationships are forged be-

1.6. ASSEMBLAGE AND DISTRIBUTION 13

tween materials, practitioners and communities through process. Miller’s work, whichhas been particularly influential in recent anthropological material culture studies, em-phasises human–object relations as the product of dynamic processes, see for example(Miller, 1987, 2009). This emphasis on process is evident in Miller’s (1987) influentialrevision of Hegel’s ‘objectification’. Miller portrays objectification as an ongoing pro-cess whereby individuals, through their interactions with objects or the material worldcreate and define themselves.

Secondly, post–structuralist material culture perspectives recognise both the enduringand evanescent nature of materiality in practice. Material culture perspectives recog-nise that relationships between material things, individuals and communities can bevery closely associated and can endure across time and space (Miller, 1987; Weiner,1992; Gell, 1998). Miller (1987) views objectifications as one of the key ways thatsubjects develop relationships and understandings of each other and with the materialworld. The strength and durability of human object relationships is also emphasised inWeiner’s (1992) concept of ‘inalienable objects’ to describe material things which areinvolved in cumulative processes identification with particular owners, individuals orgroups over significant periods of time. Most relevant to a study of globalised and frag-mented cosplay is Gell’s (1998, p.221) notion that material objects can be distributed,geographically and temporally but still connected through style. Artefacts themselvescan function as aspects of distributed personhood; artworks, objects and texts can beconsidered part of the self of the creator(s) that produced them (Gell, 1998; Reed, 2005;Giuffre, 2009). Gell’s concept is particularly relevant when applied to online technolo-gies and genres such photo sharing and blogging which are self–creative and reflexive(Reed, 2005).

However, recent anthropological approaches to materiality have also acknowledged thatthe relationships between material things, individuals and communities can also be bro-ken and unmade through divestment rituals, through social change and technologicalinnovation (Marcoux, 2001; Norris, 2004). There is also increasing recognition of theephemeral and dynamic nature of material things themselves. Material things can betransformed, broken, remade and can decay and these processes can happen on both aphysical and symbolic level (Douny, 2007; Gregson et al., 2007). Material things maynot even maintain a physical form. Recent studies have noted that the relationship be-tween materiality and digitality can be especially fluid (Miller and Slater, 2000; Horst,


2009; Van Doorn, 2011; Salmond, 2012). As I will argue throughout this thesis, ongo-ing movements between the material and the digital are especially evident in cosplaypractices as digital images and texts are used by cosplayers to create physical objects,and physical objects are later photographed, their images uploaded and distributed on-line.

As with recent material culture approaches there exists within performance studies astrong acknowledgement of evanescence and temporality. Performances are by theirvery nature temporary and ephemeral (Schieffelin, 1998; Cowan, 1990). Performancesevents are temporally and spatially bounded and they are framed as being set apartfrom everyday life (Cowan, 1990; Schieffelin, 1996; Turner and Schechner, 1988) How-ever, these temporary performance events also have the potential to influence every-day cultural life beyond the duration of the performance itself (Bauman, 1975; Turnerand Schechner, 1988; Cowan, 1990; Mendoza, 2000). Performances themselves havethe potential to transform the social positioning of individuals, performers, audiencesand objects or even change social structures (Bauman, 1975; Turner and Schechner,1988).

Performances are also dynamic and constantly changing. The competences and disposi-tions of the performer, the material and spatial contexts of the performance and the reac-tions and interpretations of the audience all produce significant variations even when theperformance enacts a pre–existing text, musical work or ritual form (Schieffelin, 1998,p.198–9). All forms of performance, social and theatrical, involve both the reproduc-tion of existing forms or structures and improvisation as even established ideas, forms,or techniques must be recreated in each new performance (Bauman, 1975; Schieffelin,1998; Hughes-Freeland, 2007). Due to their improvisatory nature performances alsoinvolve the practical recreation and variation of styles and traditions (Bauman, 1975;Schieffelin, 1998; Hughes-Freeland, 2007). Performers draw upon past practices, estab-lished techniques and genres in the creation of new works. Studies of performance em-phasise that creativity and tradition are not inherently contradictory but are instead co–dependent (Hughes-Freeland, 2007). This insight can be applied beyond performancestudies to other creative practices, including material practices such as cosplay.

1.7. NEGOTIATION 15

1.7 Negotiation

Within cosplay communities of practice assemblages of objects, meanings, individualsand groups are produced through ongoing processes of negotiation. In their construc-tion of costumes, performances and photographs, individual practitioners must developtheir own interpretations and improvisations in relation to community aesthetics and val-ues, the desires and interpretations of other practitioners, and in relation to the materialproperties of materials, technologies and spaces.

Giddens’ and Bourdieu’s models have difficulty accounting for these ongoing processesof negotiation (Sewell, 1992; King, 2000; Warde, 2005). The community of practiceconcept, developed by Lave and Wenger (1991), and used by Shove et al. (2012) doesexplore the role of the individual within a practice to some extent by examining howindividuals participate in the reification of values and learn to become members throughsituated learning. However, these models, particularly in their application to specificcase studies, still maintain a strong emphasis on structure. Lave and Wenger’s (1991)ethnographic work on situated learning, which was highly influential on the develop-ment of the community of practice model, was largely carried out in contexts where for-malised apprenticeship relationships were evident or the practice was a well–establishedtradition. These established traditions contrast strongly with cosplay’s recent develop-ment and fragmented communities.

Lave’s later work and the work of Lave and Holland, see for example (Holland and Lave,2009), give greater weight to agency as the authors highlight the creativity of the individ-ual who must constantly improvise and respond to new situations. A similar theme canbe identified in the work of de Certeau (1984) in his notion of ‘tactics’ to describe theway individuals strategically navigate contemporary consumption. de Certeau’s (1984)‘tactics’ have been particularly influential in consumption and fan studies, see (Jenkins,1992) where consumers and fans are largely viewed as active users and interpreters ofproducts and texts.

Anthropological material culture approaches also recognise material things and prac-tices as sites and contexts of negotiation between individuals and communities. Miller(2009) portrays objectification processes as involving the negotiation of contradictions.This theme is particularly prominent in studies of dress practices (Hansen, 2004). As


Woodward (2007b) has argued, embodied dress practices involve intrinsic complica-tions as they are simultaneously public and private, personal and performative. Dresscan be a ‘flash point’ around which individual desires, cultural norms and expectations,aesthetics, anxieties and pleasures are negotiated (Hansen, 2004, p.372).

Ethnographic studies of dress have revealed that these negotiations can involve the cre-ation, negotiation of many kinds of identities: religious (Banerjee and Miller, 2003;Sandikci and Ger, 2005; Secor, 2002), cultural (Eicher, 1995; Lentz, 1995; Wiley,2013), gender (Woodward, 2007b; Wiley, 2013), age (Woodward, 2007b), status (Douny,2011), caste (Banerjee and Miller, 2003), subcultural affiliation (Hebdige, 1979; Hod-kinson, 2002). As many scholars of dress practice have argued, these negotiations notonly occur on a symbolic level but on a very practical level as individuals buy clothing,select dress items, dress themselves and wear the clothing upon their bodies (Baner-jee and Miller, 2003; Woodward, 2007b; Secor, 2002). Beyond the practical dress actsthemselves, dress can form the subject of wider discourses within communities (Lentz,1995). As I will explore throughout this thesis, cosplayers not only assemble and wearcostumes they constantly dissect, photograph, write about, evaluate, and discuss cos-tumes and performances.

The dress practice of cosplay involves processes of negotiation throughout the activitiesof costume planning and construction, embodied performance and digital display anddistribution. In cosplay, as in many other dress practices studied by anthropologists, thedressed body becomes a site of negotiation between the desires of practitioners and theaesthetic and ethical values of the community, between the intentions of the performerand the interpretations of the audience or of debate between inherently contradictorycommunity values.

Many performance approaches also emphasise processes of negotiation in the creationand recreation of cultural products. Public events which are set apart from the continuityof everyday life such as rituals or theatrical performances allow communities to reflex-ively contemplate community values and even negotiate contradictory values (Turnerand Schechner, 1988). Anthropological and sociological studies of more prosaic formsof everyday social performance have also emphasised that these performances also re-quire negotiation as individuals strategically present themselves for a community audi-ence (Goffman, 1990). Performances may involve the negotiation and redefinition ofidentities and cultural values (Mendoza, 2000); the negotiation between individual ex-

1.8. THE STRUCTURE OF THE THESIS 17

pression and conformity to cultural norms (Cowan, 1990); or the negotiation of stylistictradition and innovation (Hughes-Freeland, 2007). Performances may also negotiatethe role and status of material objects in relation to human actors (Mitchell, 2009). Themultiple negotiations involved in performance can create ambiguity over the meaningand nature of the performance, posing social risk to performers and audience (Schi-effelin, 1996; Cowan, 1990). Performance studies recognise the role of tensions andambiguities in the (re)creation of cultural products. Like material culture perspectives,anthropological approaches to performance can be used to develop a more dynamicmodel of practice which acknowledges creativity, improvisation and variation.

While many studies explore dress and performance contexts as sites of negotiation ofbroader cultural concerns such as gender, ethnicity, nationality and religion, in this thesisI will explore how internal, practice-specific values such as aesthetics and craftsmanshipare also negotiated in dress and performance acts.

1.8 The Structure of the Thesis

Throughout this thesis I shall discuss the recreation, negotiation and variation of cos-play practice in Australia through an exploration of both the material and performativeelements of the practice. Chapter 2 provides an introduction to the field, outlines keymethodological challenges I experienced and explains how, from these challenges I de-veloped this line of theoretical questioning. Chapters 3 to 8 each describe a differentactivity and component of cosplay practice in Australia. The chapters are organised toapproximately trace the life cycle of cosplay processes from photographic inspiration toassembly, to wearing, to performing and then finally to photographic distribution. Eachchapter explores a particular activity as a process of assembly and distribution. Allchapters further explore how these assembly and distribution processes involve ongoingnegotiations: the negotiations between practitioners and material things, between indi-vidual practitioners and a wider community, and between particular community valuesand aesthetics.

Chapter 3 explores the performance of cosplay values at introductory panels. Theseevents assemble members of cosplay communities, masters, newcomers and outsiders.In the performances of panellists, who are typically master cosplayers, the ethics and


aesthetics of the practice are created and recreated. Chapter 4 focuses on the materialassembly of costume objects. In the assembly of cosplay costumes, cosplayers recreateimages as objects, themselves as practitioners and the values of the cosplay community.Practitioners must use their skills and creativity to work imagery into materiality andmust negotiate their own desires and intentions against community values of accuracyand amateurism. Chapter 5 explores the negotiation of the transformed body within cos-play communities. Costume objects, practitioners and communities intersect in new andcomplex ways when the costume is worn upon the body. The chapter examines a keydebate which is enacted throughout Australian cosplay communities; a debate centredupon the question of to what extent a cosplayer can and should transform their body forcosplay. As this debate is played out through practice costumed bodies become sites ofnegotiation of the contradictory values of accuracy and amateurism. Chapter 6 focuseson hallway performances, largely informal and barely structured performances that takeplace in the liminal spaces of popular culture conventions. These performances are tem-porary assemblages of costumed performers, non–costumed and costumed attendees,and photographers. In these loosely structured events performers and audiences negoti-ate the framing and meanings of these performances. Chapter 7 explores the assembly ofthe skills, style and values of cosplay mastery as they are embodied in the performancesof competitors at local competitions; Chapter 8 explores the assembly and distributionof the practice at a broader level through the creation, presentation, and exchange ofphotography.

1.9 Conclusion

This thesis will provide an ethnographic account of a practice that appears to embodysome of the key concerns of post–structuralist anthropology: practice, performance, ma-teriality, globalisation, the role of the body, and the role of emerging digital technologiesin culture and practice.

I aim to reinvigorate the idea of theoretical assemblage through the use of multiple com-plementary post–structuralist perspectives, using each to expand and critique the other.Using approaches developed from anthropological material culture and performancestudies I will explore the role of assembly, distribution and negotiation in practice.

1.9. CONCLUSION 19

Drawing on current dress and performance studies, I will argue that the reproductionof practice is not a matter of linear transmission but instead involves constant processesof negotiation in which values are created and recreated. In this way I will propose amodel of a practice that is highly diverse and fragmented which accounts for its dy-namism and heterogeneity, and recognises the role of both individual practitioners andcommunities in the creation and recreation of practice.

Through an exploration of cosplay as material and performance practice I shall empha-sise the connections between anthropological material culture and performance theory,highlighting their shared focus on process and negotiation. This thesis will explore boththe performance of materiality and the materiality of performance.

Chapter 2

Locating the field: How methodologicalchallenges uncovered a theoreticalproblem

During my fieldwork period a strange initiation rite was practiced at Australian cosplaycompetitions. Competitors who confessed to the judges or hosts that this was their firsttime dressing in cosplay would be required to stand on stage while hosts, judges, othercompetitors and members of the audience shouted at the initiate, ‘One of us! One ofus!’ The chant, as one host informed the audience during mid–competition banter, isdrawn from the film, Freaks (1932) depicting carnival side show performers. The sceneis most familiar to cosplay audiences through its parody recreation in an episode ofThe Simpsons. Scene and ritual both represent the entry of a newcomer into a commu-nity of practice, a community which views itself as existing adjacent to, or outside ofmainstream culture. This little ritual emphasises that within Australian communities ofpractice it is held that participating makes a person a cosplayer. Assembling, wearingand publicly performing a costume bestows upon a person the identity of cosplayer andprovides entry into the community of practice; to understand cosplay fully, to be ‘oneof us’, a person must cosplay and be a cosplayer.

This chapter provides an introduction to the field of cosplay in Australia and outlinesmy methodological approach. I describe how I entered the field intending to explore thelocalisation of a globalised material culture and aimed to conduct materially–orientated

21

22 CHAPTER 2. LOCATING THE FIELD

fieldwork of the style advocated by (Geismar and Horst, 2004). However, in the field Iexperienced numerous methodological challenges related to the multi–sited, fragmentedand dynamic aspects of cosplay as a practice. Adapting my methodology with a slightlydifferent approach advocated by Coy (1989), I focused on participating heavily in thepractice myself, participating firsthand in the creation and recreation of material cul-ture. I also observed and recorded many narratives of the creation of costume objects,performances and photographs. These narratives were constantly told throughout myfieldwork, during assembly activities and rehearsals in competition and panel perfor-mances, online in blogs, Facebook and during structured interviews.

Through this emphasis on participation I was able to begin to understand the connectionsbetween sites, objects, texts, individual practitioners and organisations. The method-ological challenges I experienced also highlighted theoretical questions as to how cos-play actually functions as a practice, how such diversity and fragmentation can also bestructured and somewhat continuous, how to account for recreation and creativity.

2.1 A Globalised Practice

To devotees of cosplay my decision to study the practice in Australia may seem anodd choice of location. Throughout my fieldwork local cosplayers I interacted withconstantly assumed that I was primarily interested in Japanese cosplay and would askme whether I had been to Japan and when I was planning to go there. The idea ofthe ‘Japaneseness’ of cosplay is quite prominent in Australia (Bainbridge and Norris,2013). The Madman National Cosplay Championship (MNCC) explicitly promotes thisidea on its website:

We welcome entries for costumes that are from Japanese anime, manga andvideo games. This contest is a celebration of Japanese anime and cosplayculture. (MNCC website, accessed 20/7/13)

The prize for winning the MNCC Grand Final is a trip for two to Japan.

These comments reflect the heavily globalised nature of cosplay which has been notedby a number of authors (Winge, 2006; Lamerichs, 2011; Lunning, 2011; Peirson-Smith,2013). A more traditional approach to an ethnography of cosplay as a globalised prac-

2.1. A GLOBALISED PRACTICE 23

tice may have been to ‘follow the thing’, exploring the local manifestations of cosplayat multiple sites (Marcus, 1995; Appadurai, 1997). This approach has been adoptedby numerous ethnographers exploring globalised phenomena, including practices andmaterial culture (Wulff, 1998; Strauss, 2000). These ethnographies ‘follow the thing’across related multiple sites. The idea that one can ‘follow the thing’ implies the ex-istence of a trajectory that the ethnographer can trace. Unfortunately, the global de-velopment and dispersion of the practice of cosplay is a very difficult thing to follow.This is partly due to cosplay’s nature as non–mainstream practice which receives onlyoccasional media and academic attention, but mostly due to the fact that cosplay is theproduct of countless cross–cultural exchanges assemblages of people, objects, infor-mation, events, spaces and performances. Scholars and fans alike are not even certainof where or when the practice originated (Winge, 2006).

From out of the haze surrounding the beginnings of cosplay a number of origin mythshave arisen as means of explaining where cosplay came from and what cosplay is. Theseorigin myths are discussed in published articles, on fan websites and forums and inthe conversations of cosplayers. As cosplayers themselves noted, these origin mythsreflect the understandings and motivations of the cultural contexts in which they wereproduced. These origin myths have a kind of power to shape cosplay as it is currentlypracticed as they provide cosplayers with an imagined ‘authentic’ model to hearkenback to and a standard to define the boundaries of what is and is not cosplay.

The most popular origin myth that I encountered in English–language cosplay texts de-scribes cosplay as originating from costuming activities in the United States. Accordingto this myth, the origins of cosplay can be traced back to American fans dressing upto attend fantasy and science fiction conventions in the late sixties and early seven-ties (Lamerichs, 2011; Lunning, 2010; Winge, 2006). This version of the origin storyprivileges Western texts, costumers and events. The original Star Wars film trilogy,the original series of Star Trek and the film The Rocky Horror Picture Show are par-ticularly identified as key texts that inspired and popularised American fan costumingpractices(Lamerichs, 2011; Lunning, 2010; Winge, 2006). One variation of the mythposits an even earlier point of origin suggesting that the original cosplayers were super–fans Forrest J. Ackerman and Myrtle R. Jones who attended the 1939 1st World ScienceFiction Convention in New York in science–fiction inspired outfits (Flynn, 2005).


Also seen as influential in the development of cosplay in the United States are thecostuming practices associated with historical re–enactments, especially the activitiesUS Civil War re–enactment societies and the enduringly popular Renaissance Fairs(Lamerichs, 2011). The costuming activities described in these myths share two com-mon features: the costumes were worn in public contexts rather than in domestic orprivate settings such as an in–home costume party, and the costumers are described asdrawing inspiration from pre–existing models or texts.

In this myth Japanese fan–costumers are portrayed as adopters, refiners, and redistribu-tors of American costuming practices. The export of US costuming practices to Japan istypically described as being centred upon one particular mythological moment in 1984when Nobuyuki Takahashi, president of Japan’s Studio Hard, visited the Los AngelesScience Fiction Worldcon. According to this myth Takahashi was so impressed by thecostuming activities of American fans that he described their costumes with accom-panying photographs in Japanese magazines. He is also considered the author of theportmanteau word cosplay (kosu–pure) from the English terms ‘costume’ and ‘play’(Lamerichs, 2011; Lunning, 2010; Winge, 2006).

Interestingly, these accounts of the development of cosplay all portray the movementas having twentieth–century origins and writers do not usually attempt to link cosplayactivities with the history of professional theatrical, film and television costuming or toolder dressing–up practices associated with liminal rituals like Mardis Gras or Carni-vale. Even the annual American tradition of Halloween with its carnivalesque dressing–up and performance is not commonly cited as playing an important role in the devel-opment or continuance of cosplay, although some US cosplayers jokingly refer to theholiday as ‘National Cosplay Day.’

A second popular myth actually inverts the US–as–originator model in suggesting thatJapanese fans were, in fact, the first to practice cosplay–like costuming activities, activ-ities that were later exported to South East Asia and the West (Galbraith, 2013; Bain-bridge and Norris, 2013; Truong, 2013; Winge, 2006).As scholars and participants bothnoted, definitions of what actually constitutes a ‘Japanese’ cultural product are con-stantly problematized by the globalised nature of contemporary media and fan cultures(Iwabuchi, 2002; Tobin, 1992). Many supporters of the Japan–as–birthplace myth donot argue that Japanese cosplay is inspired by exclusively ‘Japanese’ texts. Cosplay-ers in Japan are seen as drawing inspiration from Japanese and non–Japanese texts

2.1. A GLOBALISED PRACTICE 25

with costumes inspired by characters from the Western Harry Potter franchise or theJapanese mecha series Gundam both being defined as cosplay (Galbraith, 2013; Winge,2006).

In interview, experienced Adelaide–based cosplayer Jenita argued that drawing distinc-tions between Japanese and non–Japanese sources for cosplay actually violated the spiritof authentic Japanese cosplay which, she argued, drew no such distinctions. In Jenita’sretelling of the origins of cosplay the practice was started by Japanese fans dressing upas characters from Disney films.

A third, less popular theory attempts to reconcile both these myths by arguing thatwhat practitioners recognise as cosplay today arose from separately evolving costumingtraditions that developed in the United States and Japan which, due to globalisation,eventually fused in the final decades of the twentieth–century (Lunning, 2010; Winge,2006).

All the aforementioned myths share a striking and important feature in that they charac-terise the United States and/or Japan as centres of the cosplay practice and cosplay in allother countries is designated to the periphery. These myths do not seem to explain thedominance of groups characterised as practising on the periphery like the Brazilian andItalian cosplayers who have been far more successful at the World Cosplay Summit thantheir counterparts from the United States. Indeed, at the time of writing, Brazilian andItalian teams had each won the Japan–based competition more frequently than even thehome team. The aforementioned accounts also fail to explore the role of other regional‘centres’ in Europe and South East Asia.

Academic and practitioner accounts describe multiple flows of cultural goods and ideasrelated to cosplay. Strauss (2000) has highlighted some of the difficulties facing anethnographer attempting to follow a dynamic and multi–sited practice, particularly theproblem of where to locate the research activities. The ethnographer attempting to studycosplay is faced with a myriad of potential sites for conducting research into the prac-tice. While Japan and the United states are commonly identified as centres of cosplaypractice, should an ethnographer also consider alternative centres such as the UnitedKingdom, Brazil and Italy? Should periphery locations also be explored? Critics ofmulti–sited ethnographies have often raised concerns as to the extent an ethnographercan achieve significant immersion and rapport with participants if they are conducting


short–term research at a number of field sites.

Of the limited research currently being conducted into cosplay by anthropologists, soci-ologists and other scholars, many studies have focused on supposed centres of cosplayby exploring cosplayers in Japan (Okabe, 2012; Kawamura, 2013; Galbraith, 2013) andin the United States (Lunning, 2011; Gunnels, 2009). Research on supposed peripherylocations of cosplay including studies of cosplayers in Hong Kong (Rahman et al., 2012;Peirson-Smith, 2013) and Italy (Vanzella, 2005) is slowly growing.

Before commencing this research I was aware that cosplay was being practiced in Aus-tralia. Like others, I had strongly associated the practice with Japan. In newspaper arti-cles and online sites I viewed images of cosplayers in my home city of Adelaide, whohad recreated these globalised aesthetics and performance forms in local parks, streetsand universities. I was intrigued by the local manifestations of this globalised practiceand I was keen to explore how practitioners in Australia were interpreting cosplay inrelation to other sites such as Japan and the United States.

Australia is currently an under–researched periphery location. Norris and Bainbridge(2009; 2013), who have conducted the most in–depth study of the Australian cosplayscene to date, argue that Australian cosplay communities emerged predominantly outof local Japanese anime, manga and videogame fan communities which have developedsince the nineties. They argue that local fan–centric industries including anime andmanga distribution company Madman Entertainment have also played an active role infostering the development of these communities (Norris and Bainbridge, 2009).

Australian cosplayers also participate in cosplay on a globalised level through compet-ing in international competitions such as the World Cosplay Summit (Bainbridge andNorris, 2013). My fieldwork included countless moments where the global and the localintersected through cosplay: receiving specialty cosplay wigs posted from Hong Kongand Shawnee, Oklahoma; chatting with a Malaysian–born cosplayer who created hisfirst cosplay for an Australian convention; watching video tutorials on fibreglass tech-niques by Canadian cosplayers, perusing the racks of pre–made cosplay costumes at theBodyline store in Harajuku, Tokyo. Australian cosplay, therefore, provides an intriguingpoint of intersection between local and global, centre and periphery.

2.2. PLACING THE FIELD 27

2.2 Placing the Field

The practice of cosplay can be considered multi–sited as the global dispersion of cosplayhas created communities of practice in many different geographic locations. However,even at the localised level of a particular geographic region, the city of Tokyo or thecity of Adelaide, the practice is difficult to place. The dynamism and multi–sited natureof many contemporary practices poses particular challenges for ethnographers (Mahon,2000; Strauss, 2000). A field site can no longer be seen merely as a geographical loca-tion, but rather may be viewed as an intersection between people, practices and shiftingterrains, both physical and virtual. The ability to observe ideas, images and practices,and pursue a network of personal and institutional leads makes any location into ‘thefield’ (Strauss, 2000, p.171).

While broader, more dynamic conceptions of the field do capture features of contem-porary fieldwork, in order to manage the practicalities of ethnographic fieldwork, toconduct interviews and participant–observation, the ethnographer must still define forthemselves a field in which to carry out their work. In the case of Australian cosplay thequestion of where I should position myself posed a considerable conundrum.

In contrast to many other practices studied by ethnographers, such as craft and perfor-mance traditions, cosplay has no formal schools or training organisations and there arefew formal clubs and associations (Okabe, 2012). Australian cosplay has a large onlinepresence but rather than being concentrated upon a central site it is fragmented withcosplay activities being conducted on social media sites such as Facebook, conventionorganising sites and forums, and image sharing sites such as deviantART and Flickr.The multi–media nature of the practice with its incorporation of craft, performance andphotography activities provides a further layer of complexity as these activities can takeplace in different online and offline locations.

Previous studies of cosplay have tended to focus on cosplay as a performance act andtherefore have been located around sites where performances are enacted, popular–culture conventions, other public events and photoshoots, see for example (Rahmanet al., 2012; Peirson-Smith, 2013; Lunning, 2011). Many of these studies acknowledgeonline sites of cosplay activities and domestic sites of cosplay crafting but due to theauthors’ focus on performance moments, these locations are rarely explored in depth


and the relationships between the different sites of cosplay practices are also under–researched.

Studies which focus mainly on the performance sites of cosplay fail to fully recognisethe multi–sited nature of the practice. Cosplay is a moveable feast; performances areprepared, costume objects are researched and assembled in practitioners’ homes beforepractitioners, objects, performances and communities are brought together at large, tem-porary events. Practitioners also move constantly between online and offline spaces asthey research techniques, share knowledge and display photographs. To fully capturethe dynamism of the practice and to explore the relationships between multiple sites Iwould need to devise a methodology that would be flexible enough to enable me to movebetween sites ‘following the practice’ (Strauss, 2000). I began by following Australianconvention events.

2.3 Events as Observer

I commenced my fieldwork as an observer at local Australian popular culture conven-tions. Conventions, or ‘cons’, are important sites of fan practices and consumption,where activities such as the buying and selling of merchandise, screenings, costumeand fan art competitions, karaoke, and videogame tournaments take place. Some con-ventions celebrate specific types of popular culture texts videogames, Japanese mangaand anime, Western comics while others more broadly encompass almost any form ofpopular culture.

Most of the major Australian cities play host to at least one annual convention: Ade-laide’s AVCon, Melbourne’s Manifest, Sydney’s SMASH, Perth’s Wai–Con, and Ho-bart’s AICon. Since many of them were founded in the early 2000’s these conventionshave become increasingly popular with recorded attendance numbers of over 5,000at Adelaide’s AVCon, and over 13,000 at Manifest, Melbourne’s Anime Festival in2009. Many of these Australian conventions are run by small non–profit organisationswhich are comprised of a few members of paid staff and a substantial number of volun-teers. These organisations are often associated with university anime clubs, with manyearly Australian conventions being staged on university grounds (AVCon website 2010;SMASH website 2010).

2.3. EVENTS AS OBSERVER 29

Conventions have been identified as important sites of cosplay performance as they hostboth formalised cosplay competition events and provide the less structured spaces ofconvention halls, where cosplayers are able to display their costumes to spectators andinteract with other cosplayers and photographers (Lunning, 2011). Many conventionsexplicitly encourage cosplay and promote cosplay activities in their advertising material.These activities include panels and workshops (to be discussed in Chapter 3), as well ascosplay–themed games and parties.

In the course of my fieldwork I attended thirteen Australian popular culture conventions,including both volunteer–run conventions organised on a not–for–profit basis and for–profit conventions staffed by paid employees. Nine of the conventions were themedaround the celebration of Japanese popular culture anime, manga and videogamesand the other four conventions were dedicated to popular culture more generally, oftenwith a more Western focus. All of these convention events were held in major capitalcities.

In the first months of my field work I attended conventions as an observer, not as a par-ticipant. I took field notes, photographs and made video recordings of performances.Observing at conventions provided me with my first, outsider’s glimpse into the activ-ities of cosplayers and their communities of practice. Exact numbers of participants inthe Australian community are difficult to estimate. According to survey data collectedby organising committees, individual convention events sites where cosplay is com-monly practiced have attracted over ten thousand attendees, the majority of whom areaged between 16 and 35.1 However, the number of attendees who participate in costumeis unrecorded.

Previous studies of cosplayers in Japan, the United States and Hong Kong have charac-terised cosplay as a practice typically enacted by young adults (Okabe, 2012; Lunning,2011; Rahman et al., 2012; Peirson-Smith, 2013). From my observations of local eventsthis also appeared to be true of cosplay in Australia but I did regularly encounter cos-players in their forties and older throughout my fieldwork. Many teenage cosplayersalso attended local cosplay events and their activities were observed and discussed byinformants. However, my key informants were all adults and teenage cosplayers were

1Discussion of conventions’ survey and demographic data, Interview with Dustin Wilson, AVConPromotions Co–ordinator 2010.


not a focus of my research.

Studies of non–Australian cosplayers also tend to characterise cosplay as a female–dominated practice (Okabe, 2012; Lunning, 2011; Rahman et al., 2012; Peirson-Smith,2013; Galbraith, 2013). From my observations at conventions and competitions theredid seem to be slightly more active female participants within Australian communi-ties. However, throughout my fieldwork I regularly encountered male cosplayers andother male participants, particularly photographers, who were influential members ofthe community as cosplay judges, event organisers and master cosplayers. While otherstudies have portrayed cosplay as a feminine fan activity, in opposition to other, appar-ently male–dominated fan practices, see for example (Lunning, 2011), the visibility ofmale cosplayers within the Australian community and the position of male participantsin powerful roles have led me to reject this characterisation in relation to Australiancommunities.

Most studies of cosplay tend to restrict their focus to community participants who wearcosplay costumes (Okabe, 2012; Lunning, 2011; Rahman et al., 2012; Peirson-Smith,2013). Within Australian communities the idea that to be a cosplayer explicitly in-volves the public wearing of costumes is also prevalent. However, while during myfieldwork I intended to focus predominantly on cosplayers through my participation incosplay practices I encountered many other participants who interacted with cosplayersin a variety of ways photographers, convention organisers, fans and friends of cosplay-ers. Certain non–cosplaying participants, especially photographers, play crucial rolesin the creation and maintenance of cosplay communities of practice, and their roles areacknowledged and discussed in a limited way in this thesis.

When I began my fieldwork I was an outsider to cosplay practice communities. I hadnever participated in cosplay or attended a cosplay event. I thought I did not know anycurrent practitioners, although later in my fieldwork, school friends, work colleaguesand acquaintances began to reveal to me their participation in cosplay. When I initiallyattended conventions and other events I attended alone.

As an outsider I was positioned in the role of observer. I could attend cosplay–relatedactivities such as panels, competitions, and games. Like other non–cosplaying conven-tion attendees, I was also able to observe cosplayers as they ‘hung out’ and performed inthe informal spaces of the conventions, hallways, courtyards and corridors. From these

2.3. EVENTS AS OBSERVER 31

activities I was able to record the form and content of many cosplay performances, toexperience these performances as an audience member and to hear and record narrativesof costume construction.

Reviewing my fieldnotes and recordings I noted that the data I had collected tendedto emphasise the performative aspects of cosplay. I had collected photographs and de-scriptions of hallway performances, created transcripts of panels and competitions. Anemphasis on performativity is notable in many previous studies of that have been car-ried out by researchers who do not personally participate in the practice (Lunning, 2011;Lamerichs, 2011). As in the case of previous researchers, my non–cosplaying status waspositioning me as a spectator. I was viewing cosplay like other non–cosplaying conven-tion attendees, as an outsider. While the spectacular and performative aspects are anintrinsic element of the practice, cosplay as a practice exists beyond conventions andother events and is intertwined with more mundane aspects of practitioners’ everydaylives.

Anthropological approaches to material culture, consumption and practice emphasisethe importance of exploring the everyday aspects of consumption, not just the spec-tacular (Miller, 1998, 2001b). The importance of domestic spaces as crucial sites ofconsumption practices has been repeatedly emphasised and explored by theorists ofpractice and material culture. As Miller (2001b) argues, domestic contexts are spaceswhere some of the most meaningful social practices are enacted. Domestic spaces areimportant sites for cosplay in Australia. In interview and competition narratives cos-players often described how they would undertake cosplay assembly activities in theirhomes or the homes of others. Indeed the greater part of the cosplaying year is spentpreparing costumes for intermittent events. With the focus of the current cosplay liter-ature on performance events, these domestic spaces have been neglected and their rolein their creation of cosplay objects underemphasised.

While observations at events provided an excellent source of information on the perfor-mance of cosplay at events, I knew from the narratives provided in panels and compe-titions that this equally important world of cosplay existed where costumes were con-structed, skills acquired and ongoing relationships were developed. To explore the craftaspects of the practice I would need to access the ‘backstage’ (Goffman, 1990) sites ofcosplay assembly, the private homes of cosplayers and their friends and families.


2.4 Difficulties Getting ‘Backstage’

For me gaining entry into the hidden world of cosplay assembly and performance prepa-ration was initially rather difficult. Mahon (2000) argues that gaining access to thebackstage areas of cultural production poses a particular challenge for ethnographersas these areas may be deliberately hidden from outsiders for commercial, political orpractical reasons. Gaining access to these backstage regions relies on the strength ofthe relationship between ethnographer and participants (Mahon, 2000). As an outsiderto the practice it was initially difficult for me to develop an ongoing engagement withindividual cosplayers and develop the rapport necessary to access the more ‘everyday’world of cosplay. These difficulties can be attributed to two main factors: the transientnature of the convention events I was studying and my own ambiguous role within thepractice communities.

The temporary and dynamic nature of convention sites meant that establishing ongoingrelationships with participants was challenging. The constant movements of people inand out of fieldsites can make it challenging to apply traditional fieldwork methods andmay create difficulties in establishing rapport (Mahon, 2000; Strauss, 2000). I wouldfly to a new city for the duration of the convention weekend and spend it attendingconvention events before flying home. In the course of each event I would be one oftens of thousands of participants who were moving between event spaces, coming andgoing from the convention to hotels, homes and private parties. Cosplayers, conventionvolunteers and others participating at these events were often willing to engage in a briefchat but had neither the time nor inclination for longer discussions or to participate infollow up interviews.

As I quickly learnt, attending convention events alone is not common practice amongcosplayers in Australia. Conventions and other events are seen as opportunities to rein-force pre–existing bonds of acquaintance or friendship. Cosplayers, especially typicallyattend in groups, sometimes in complementary costumes. Attending in groups providescosplayers with attendants to carry bags, equipment, fix props and share any potentialfeelings of embarrassment at being in public in costume. At a smaller event in Brisbanemy solo status was remarked upon by other attendees who expressed amazement that Ihad come alone and commented that it would be very difficult attending an event with-out the support of others. Attending events alone accentuated my outsider status as I

2.5. DECISION TO PARTICIPATE 33

was not participating in the event in a typical manner.

Adding to the difficulty of establishing relationships was the ambiguity of my status. Iwas often provided with an entry pass that identified me as ‘Media’. My recording andphotographic equipment was inferior to that used by many cosplay photographers andother participants, and cosplayers and convention organisers alike were often confusedand a little disappointed when I explained that I was conducting academic research. Myresearch activities would not provide significant media coverage and exposure for indi-vidual cosplayers or particular conventions unlike representatives from the commercialand independent media who were also present at these events. While ethnographers inother at other sites may be conspicuous as the only person present with a camera andrecording devices, at conventions I was only another lens among thousands and a veryunimportant one at that. Convention organisers, attendees and cosplayers were all ex-tremely busy participating during convention events and were keen to spend their littleavailable time engaging with broadcast journalists and well–known cosplay photogra-phers rather than an ethnographer.

It became clear to me that in order to access the backstage world of cosplay, to developongoing rapport with cosplayers, to understand the connections between different sites,activities and objects I would need to participate in cosplay myself.

2.5 Decision to Participate

As I hope to demonstrate throughout this thesis, the practice of cosplay itself is centredupon participation. From my first day in the field I was invited to participate. Cosplay-ers, panellists and stall holders all told me that I should cosplay for two reasons: to gaina better understanding of the practice and because I was assured that I would ‘have morefun.’

In Australian communities the term ‘cosplay’ is used both a noun and a verb. Cosplayas a noun can refer to the collective activity but also to ‘a cosplay’, a costume and/orthe embodied performance of that costume. ‘To cosplay’ is the act of participatingin cosplay, creating costume objects and performing in costume. This linguistic titbit issurprisingly revelatory as the multiple meanings of the word are reflective of the activity


itself the importance of costume objects, performances, and the notion of cosplay asboth individualist and collective. It is through participation that practitioners acquireskills, build relationships, create cultural products, enact the identity of cosplayer andrecreate the practice. During fieldwork an ethnographer may be required to adopt avariety of social roles (Harre, 2002). This can include participating in the production ofcultural products (Mahon, 2000; Coy, 1989; Lave, 2011). Mahon (2000) in a survey ofliterature notes that some ethnographers deliberately choose to participate in productionas it may be the only means of accessing sites and participants.

Material culture scholars have often highlighted the ways that the “cultural biographies”of things can be traced, revealing histories of interconnections between materials andindividuals, communities and sites (Kopytoff, 1986; Hoskins, 1998). Throughout myfieldwork I found that cosplayers were endlessly interested in reflexive narratives of as-sembly and preparation. Tales of costume object assembly and performance preparationwere told in interviews, in hallway and competition performances and online on Face-book conversations, tutorials, forums and blogs. Through these stories I was able totrace back practitioners’ processes and experiences. Connect process, production, andperformance. Cosplayers would often verbally follow a photographic image back to theevent it was taken, to the costume made for the event, to the character that inspired thecostume.

Through my own participation I was able to experience these processes firsthand, cre-ating cultural biographies as well as retrospectively uncovering them. In preparing myown costumes, performances and photos and especially in collaborating with others Icould follow creative processes forward in time, observe the planning and design ofcostumes, watch as ideas for photo shoots became enacted in practice and share feel-ings of anticipation and anxiety in the preparation of competition performances. In themanner advocated by Coy (1989), my participation also enabled me to position myselfas a novice practitioner. As well as recording the practitioner biographies of other cos-players and photographers I could trace my own movement from community outsiderto insider.

Participating in cosplay also enabled me to eventually access the private domestic spaceswhere many costume assembly activities take place. Initially, most of my domestic–located research was conducted in my own home as I assembled costumes to wear toevents. New tools and equipment such as paint, a sewing machine, clay, a hot glue

2.5. DECISION TO PARTICIPATE 35

Figure 2.1: Jane working at home


gun, and a heat gun were purchased and these items began to invade my living spaces.While the materiality of cosplay threatened to take over my domestic space, eventuallyother cosplayers began to visit my home for collaborative costuming activities. As Iformed ongoing relationships with other cosplayers I began to participate in co–creativeassembly and preparation activities: I cut fabric on my living room floor with anothercosplayer for a jacket we were making together; cosplaying friends got dressed in mybathroom before conventions. Later, I also participated in construction activities in thehomes of other cosplayers. I sewed garments on their kitchen tables, viewed wherethey stored their costumes, and pinned participants into their garments in front of theirtelevisions.

Participating enabled me to connect the backstage construction activities of the homewith the front stage performance activities of conventions. I could observe the assem-bly of cultural products and the accompanying processes of ‘objectification’ (Miller,1987) as cosplayers constructed costumes, rehearsed skits and prepared their bodies forperformance. As a correction to previous studies’ emphasis on performance, an explo-ration of backstage sites enabled me to observe and participate in the meaning–making,relationship building, learning and teaching, work and pleasures that take place in thesecontexts.

Through participating in events as a cosplayer I was able to experience the embodiedsensation of cosplay performance. I experienced firsthand what it was like to wear cos-tumes, devise skits, be a competitor, take photographs and be photographed. In contrastto my experiences attending out of costume, my public participation in cosplay at eventsdrew me closer to other cosplayers. Cosplayers were much more willing to spend timewith a fellow cosplayer, even one conducting research. My co–participation meant thatI could relate to other cosplayers and share experiences. I could exchange narratives ofconstruction with other cosplayers I met in the hallways and foyers. Cosplayers weremuch more willing to talk with ‘one of us!’ My further participation as a photographerenabled me to learning the skills associated with cosplay photography, the embodied ex-perience of taking photographs and to participate in the activity of sharing photographswhich strengthened my bonds with fellow cosplayers.

2.6. ONLINE PARTICIPATION 37

2.6 Online Participation

Through assembling and performing my own costumes I also became a participant inmany online cosplay activities and gained access to further digital sites of cosplay prac-tice. Like other cosplayers I was using online sites and forums to find research materialsand tutorials for costumes. I gathered images, viewed photographs of other cosplay-ers online, read blogs and websites and watched tutorial videos. This introduced meto the diverse ways that cosplay skills and knowledge are taught and distributed on-line. It also enabled me to experience the ways that these online sources are practicallyused by cosplayers during costume assembly processes. This is further discussed inChapters 4 and 8.

As my participation increased I also became involved in the activity of photo–sharingon the social networking site, Facebook and began to recognise the importance of theseactivities in maintaining the practice and communities. After events pictures of meand other cosplayers would be posted to Facebook on the events’ official pages. I wasable to view these images and images of other cosplayers. This both strengthened mybonds with cosplaying and photographer friends, as we would produce, exchange andcomment upon images of one an another, and enabled me to establish contact with agreater range of cosplayers and photographers. These images also helped establish meas a fellow practitioner within a community, and potential research participants couldtrace my own online cosplay biography.

Participating as a cosplayer enabled me to recognise the strong relationships between of-fline and online cosplay sites, and emphasised the flows between offline and online thathave been recognised by other theorists (Miller and Slater, 2000; Miller, 2011; Horst,2009). Echoing ethnographic findings from very different cultural contexts (Miller andSlater, 2000; Miller, 2011; Horst, 2009), offline and online activities are viewed largelyas continuous by cosplayers. As I will demonstrate throughout this thesis, in the prac-tice of cosplay the digital and the material consistently intersect as cosplayers use onlinetutorials to construct costume objects and digitally distribute performances through pho-tography and video.


2.7 Participants

Through my participation in cosplay I moved from outsider to insider status withinthe practice. Attending conventions, parties and competitions at the beginning of myfieldwork I was interacting briefly with hundreds of transient cosplayers, photographersand attendees. I began following conventions around Australia to major capital cities butas I formed closer relationships with local cosplayers my focus increasingly narrowedto communities in my home city of Adelaide. Towards the end of my fieldwork I wasregularly attending convention events as a member of The Con Artists, a cosplay groupor ‘circle’ consisting of three women and two men.

In the process of becoming a cosplayer I began interacting with other cosplayers on aone–to–one basis or in small groups as I helped with costume assembly, went on shop-ping trips and prepared for events. I also conducted in–depth interviews with eight cos-players, five women and three men, of differing levels of cosplay experience. Interactingwith participants and listening to their individual accounts of their experiences helpedme recognise the diversity of the cosplay experience. Cosplayers are also individualswith unique histories, memories, personal desires and motivations.

Participation allowed me to connect sites with practices but also enabled me to connectindividual practitioners with cosplayer communities of practice. In tracing practitionerbiographies I began to learn how people came to enter the practice, the clubs they joinedand the circles they moved in, who learnt and who taught. Above all, the experiences ofthe cosplayers I encountered tended to reflect the argument of Lave and Wenger (1991)that increased participation in the practice correlated with increased community stand-ing. Below I shall provide an introduction to some of the cosplayers I encounteredduring fieldwork whose activities shall be discussed throughout this thesis. These intro-ductions illustrate the diverse ways it is possible to participate in cosplay, the diversityof cosplayer motivations and costume choices, and also highlight the social nature ofcosplay, the different relationships that could be formed through mutual participation inthe practice.

Julia

Julia is a young music teacher in her twenties. She became involved in cosplay throughher ex–boyfriend, ‘It’s all his fault!’(Julia, Author’s Interview 2012). He had become

2.7. PARTICIPANTS 39

involved in Steampunk parties and events in Adelaide and began organising events withmembers of the Australian Costumers’ Guild. Julia decided to participate with him andthey both joined the ACG, attending frequent meetings and parties. When the relation-ship ended she continued to participate in costuming activities as a member of the ACGas she had made many other costuming friends within the guild.

Julia wears a large variety of costumes. She identifies Steampunk as her favourite genreof costuming because, ‘It’s so free and nothing is wrong and it’s all about making thingsyourself, experimenting.’ (Julia, Author’s Interview 2012) However, in recent yearsJulia has begun to wear more character cosplay. Julia draws inspiration from a myriadof source texts, mostly Western titles. Among the costumes she has worn since 2010include: “Ramona Flowers” from Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, “Catwoman” from theDC universe, multiple versions of the character “Kaylee” from Joss Whedon’s Firefly,“Vampire Willow” from Buffy, “Amber” from Suckerpunch, “Orihime” from Bleach,“Merrida” from Disney’s Brave, “Alice” from the videogame Alice: Madness Returns.Julia is a fan of Western science–fiction and fantasy films and television as well asWestern animated content, especially My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and many ofthe works of Disney.

For Julia, cosplay and other forms of costuming are highly social activities. She con-tinues to attend a lot of costuming events and parties on a near–weekly basis. She alsocreates costumes with the assistance of her friends. As Julia is only beginning to learnparticular techniques, such as machine sewing, she invites friends who are experiencedcosplayers to her house or travels to their houses where they teach Julia various skills orwork collaboratively on her projects. Julia displays photographs of herself and othersdressed in cosplay on her Facebook account. Recently she has also created a separateFacebook account particularly for showcasing her cosplay photography which is listedunder her cosplaying name.

Daniel

Daniel, a primary school music teacher and corporate complaints manager, is a new-comer to cosplay. Before attending AVCon in 2012 Daniel was aware of cosplay but


had an ambivalent attitude towards the practice:

I knew there were people who did dress up and stuff but it wasn’t re-ally something I was interested in doing, I didn’t really care about it. I’dthink, that’s a cool costume but that wasn’t every really on the radar.

(Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

Daniel had never attended a costuming event or popular culture convention before heattended AVCon 2012 in cosplay with other members of a vocal ensemble, The ConArtists, of which he and I were both members. The group had decided to attend theevent in costume to perform ‘geek–themed’ a capella vocal music, similar to the filksongs described by Jenkins (1992). Some of the members of the group were experiencedcosplayers and others, like Daniel, had never cosplayed before.

In the course of attending AVCon 2012, hanging out with other cosplayers and watchingcosplay competitions, Daniel developed an interest in cosplaying. He subsequently at-tended other conventions in costume, began creating his own costumes and participatedin photoshoots and cosplay competitions. Daniel spends time discussing and research-ing alternative characters to cosplay. Daniel is a fan of Western science–fiction andfantasy films, television programmes and novels. Among his favourites are the BBC’sTorchwood, Doctor Who, and Merlin and HBO’s Game of Thrones. Daniel’s partner isan avid Harry Potter fan and he enjoys watching and discussing popular culture with hisfriends and work colleagues. Two Doctor Who encyclopaedias stand on his bookshelfbetween a Doctor Who board game and his housemate’s statuette of a “Big Brother”from the game, Bioshock. For my birthday Daniel and his housemate gave me a largeassortment of Game of Thrones merchandise.

Renee

Renee is a highly–skilled and experienced cosplayer who aspires to eventually developher interest in costuming into a professional career. Renee describes herself as being

2.7. PARTICIPANTS 41

interested in costuming from a very young age:

As far as costuming goes, I started just loving costumes as a child. I’vealways loved beautiful clothes. I’ve always liked pretty things and justlike dressing up, myself. I think that was the whole reason why when Iwas little I did a lot of dance and things like that. I was never really sogood at the dance but I just liked dressing up and wearing the costumes.

(Renee, Author’s Interview 2012)

Unlike many other cosplayers I encountered during this research, Renee has formaltraining in costuming elements, particularly stage and film makeup but trained herself tosew. She also participates in other non–cosplay costuming activities including creatingcostumes for amateur theatre. Renee had long created costumes for herself but views herentry into the community as the moment when she first met members of the AustralianCostumers’ Guild while working at an Adelaide moulding and casting specialty store.She ran a workshop for some guild members:

I ran the prosthetics moulding and casting workshops and then I startedcoming to meetings and I made a lot of friends so I met all these reallywonderful people that enjoy the same thing as me. I was always slightlyashamed of the fact that I like dressing up. (Renee, Author’s Interview 2012)

Renee focuses on creating as much of her outfit herself as possible and is constantlystriving to try and learn new crafting skills. She asks other guild members to teach heradvanced skills and also assists other cosplayers, including Julia, by sharing her consid-erable knowledge of techniques. Renee has cosplayed as an incredibly diverse range ofcharacters including Disney’s “Tinkerbell”, “Bumblebee” from Transformers, “PinkiePie” from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, DC Comics’ “Poison Ivy”, and “JessicaRabbit”. She also actively enjoys mixing cosplay with other costuming and performancegenres incorporating acrobatic stunts and creating costumes like a burlesque–themedTardis from Doctor Who.

Santhosh

Santhosh was born and raised in Malaysia but at the time of my fieldwork he was cur-rently living in Adelaide as a post–graduate research student. While he was aware ofconventions being staged in Malaysia, he cosplayed for the first time and attended his


first ever convention in Australia. After seeing cosplayers at AVCon that year he was in-spired to try it himself the next. Santhosh said that he felt more comfortable cosplayingin Adelaide as he thought there was a lot of pressure to do it right’ in Malaysian cosplaywhich he found intimidating.

As a cosplayer Santhosh is a fast learner. His initial costumes were ambitious and de-tailed. His first cosplay as “Kaname Tousen” from the anime/manga franchise Bleachwas a self–created cosplay requiring a considerable level of dress–making skill. San-thosh had never sewn before creating that costume. The next year he competed success-fully in the AVCon cosplay competition wearing a full suit of mecha armour which hehad creatively assembled from cardboard.

Santhosh enjoys attending cosplay events with friends but particularly enjoys workingtogether with others on creating cosplays. Through the internet Santhosh contacts othercosplayers who are interested in creating similar costumes of the type he enjoys build-ing armour suits, both cosplayers based in Adelaide and cosplayers located in Japanand even Canada. Santhosh compares his work with those creating similar costumes,adapting their techniques to his own purposes or rejecting their techniques and creatinghis own alternatives.

Ben

Ben is a highly active member of the Australian Costumers’ Guild who assists in theorganisation of the guild’s events as well as regularly attending. Like Renee, Ben has along–standing interest in costumes, and was interested in dressing–up as a child. Ben’sintroduction into the cosplay community came about through his participation in a StarWars fan community when he was living in rural Australia. The last Star Wars prequelfilm was released in 2005 and Ben decided to join other members of the fan group andtravel down to the city premiere in costume.

Ben’s first costume, a set of Jedi robes, was created by a friend but subsequently he hasbeen involved in assembling his own costumes using a variety of techniques includingsewing, tailoring, make–up and prosthetics creation. Ben’s costumes mostly draw in-spiration from Western texts Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Doctor Who and themusicals Sweeney Todd and Les Miserables. He also participates in other costuminggenres including Steampunk and historical Victorian costume recreation.

2.8. CONCLUSION: FROM FIELD TO THEORY 43

As well as participating in the craft aspects of cosplay Ben is a keen performer. Hehas participated in cosplay competitions locally and interstate in the skit sections andhas won prizes. In addition to his cosplaying activities Ben regularly acts in local am-ateur theatre productions. As a member of the Costumers’ Guild, Ben is highly activein promoting the guild to the wider cosplay community. He has presented panels oncostuming at local popular culture conventions and has been involved in organising andpresenting the guild’s information booth at events.

While I established many relationships with cosplayers within local communities, thesepractitioners and their stories were the most influential in shaping my thesis. Julia in-volved me constantly in online discussions of costumes she was assembling, allowingme to follow her decision–making processes as she chose materials and learnt tech-niques. In following Daniel’s journey from novice to celebrated practitioner I was ableto trace theprogession of a participant in a practice and observe as his skills developedand his values altered. As a leader figure in the Adelaide scene, Ben was present atnearly every convention event I attended. I watched him perform in competition, deliverpanels and was occasionally judged by him myself in competition. Renee’s experiencesas a professionally trained costumer and makeup artist who still chose to participatein amateur costuming provided particular insights into the unique nature of cosplaycontrasted with other forms of costuming. Santhosh, a postgraduate student like me,was one of the most mobile cosplayers I encountered. He had participated in cosplayactivities both in Australia and his home country, Malaysia and could draw strong com-parisons and contrasts between the different local articulations of cosplay. The diverseexperiences, intentions and creative expressions of the cosplayers whom I encounteredduring fieldwork strongly influenced the emphasis on heterogeneity in practice which isdeveloped throughout this thesis.

2.8 Conclusion: From Field to Theory

In my initial encounters with the practice of cosplay in Australia I struggled to assemblea field. Cosplay appeared to be a series of temporary sites, a constant movement of dis-persed individuals, and dynamic flows of myriad images and objects. I found it difficultto position myself and to develop meaningful and ongoing relationships with practi-


tioners. I became concerned that my fieldwork would bear out the criticisms levelledagainst non-traditional forms of fieldwork; I would not experience immersion nor de-velop rapport with practitioners. I began to seriously doubt whether cosplay in Australiaactually existed as a recognisable continuous entity, the definition of practice describedby Giddens (1984).

However, through choosing to participate in the practice as a novice cosplayer I wasable to immerse myself in the practice and its associated communities and, perhapsmost importantly to trace connections the rapidly movings sites, objects, images andpractitioners of cosplay. As a practitioner I was able to observe that it is ‘practice-in-performance’ (Schatzki, 1996; Reckwitz, 2002), the doing of cosplay that connectscostume objects to performances, novices to masters, sites to photographs, and indi-viduals to communities. To be a cosplayer is to participate in the practice; a cosplayis an assembly of dress and performance put together by a cosplayer. This insight hasinfluenced my focus on practice-as-performance throughout this thesis. In the follow-ing chapters I aim to explore how practitioners’ micro-actions and negotiations recreate,with variation, the practice of cosplay as an entity.

My early frustrations that cosplay in Australia did not seem to fit a model of more tradi-tional craft and dress practices studied in other ethnographic contexts led me to considerhow cosplay practice actually challenges current models of practice and community ofpractice. Like many ethnographers in a similar position, I was able to use my strug-gles to define a field as a means of engaging with a wider theoretical question: howcan fragmented, dynamic and heterogenous practices exist as continuous, recognisableentities across space and time? In my following analytical chapters I shall attempt toaddress this question in relation to the practice of cosplay in Australia. Through anexploration of specific activities enacted within Australian communities of practice –panels, costume assembly, dressing activities, hallway performances, competitions andphotography – I shall explore how each of these activities contributes to the recreationof the practice as a whole.

Chapter 3

How to Cosplay: Performing CosplayAesthetic Values at ConventionPanels

His headband is missing the symbol of Konohagakure...(Author’s Fieldnotes, 2011)

The presenter is correct. The cosplayer in the photograph displayed behind her on aPowerPoint slide has neglected a key detail in his “Rock Lee” costume. The cosplayer’sred ninja headband, which the character tends to wear wrapped around his waist, ismissing a metallic plate with a carved symbol of the Konohagakure (Village Hidden inthe Leaves). Within the realm of the anime Naruto (Kishimoto 2002) headbands have aspecial significance as they serve as a visual reminder to the audience of the character’sallegiance to one of many competing ninja villages.

Attention to detail is very important to the creation of good cosplay, the presenterreminds her audience. The forty of us, seated in rows of identical convention seat-ing, watch quietly as the presenter dressed as the male character “Grell” from theanime/manga Kuroshitsuji (Toboso 2006) gestures to another PowerPoint slide. Thesecond slide contains a photograph of a second, different Rock Lee cosplayer. Thepresenter draws attention to the cosplayer’s eyebrows, noting with approval that thecosplayer has used makeup to enhance their thickness, increasing his resemblance to

45

46 CHAPTER 3. HOW TO COSPLAY

the bushy–browed character. This cosplayer has arranged his body in a dynamic pose,a martial arts fighting stance apparently regularly performed by the character. The pre-senter praises the cosplayer’s pose and points out that this cosplayer has accuratelyrecreated Rock Lee’s headband, Konohagakure symbol and all. It is ten–thirty in themorning on the first day of a major Australian anime convention and we are attendingthe cosplay panel.

3.1 The Panel

My formal introduction to cosplay was the Australian Costumer’s Guild panel held atAVCon 2010, the first popular culture convention event I had ever attended. Uponarriving at the event I was amazed and, as I described in my field notes, ‘sensorially–overwhelmed’ by the number, variety, colour and spectacle of so many costumed bod-ies. Examining the event booklet provided by the organisers, I decided to attend allthe costume–related scheduled activities for that day. That morning I sat myself downamongst other convention attendees, costumed and un–costumed, in a small conferenceroom as two costumed men explained how to become involved in costuming. From thattime on throughout my fieldwork I would attend panels at any event which includedthem as part of its schedule. This resulted in my attending over twenty panels in thecourse of my research.

Panels are a particular event at Australian popular culture conventions where a presen-ter (or multiple presenters) delivers a lecture to an audience on a particular topic. A‘question and answer’ session where the presenter responds to questions from audiencemembers is also typically included as a component of the presentation. Panel–styleevents are included as part of nearly all Australian conventions; recent SMASH, Man-ifest, AVCon and Wai–Con conventions have all featured panels as part of their sched-uled events. For example, AVCon in 2010 scheduled ten panels to run as part of theirtwo–day convention.

Panel events at large, well–funded or for–profit conventions may be presented by mem-bers of the anime, television, film and videogame industries such as directors, actors,seiyuu (voice actors), and videogame developers. As Jenkins (1992) in his explorationof North American Science Fiction conventions argues, this style of event can be seen

3.2. THE PERFORMANCE OF COSPLAY VALUES AND SKILLED VISION 47

to provide industry members with a forum to promote their work and an opportunity forfans to engage in contact with the creators of their favourite works. Panels conductedby industry members are particularly prominent at large North American and Europeanconventions.

In the case of non–profit Australian conventions, however, the costs and challenges ofattracting members of the anime and videogame industries to speak at local conventionshave led to a large proportion of panels being centred on anime and videogame relatedfan activities, presented to fans by fans, as it were. The topics discussed in these panelsmay include fan discussion of particular texts or genres of texts.

A popular style of fan–centred panels purports to instruct an audience in how to engagein particular fan–activities or to perform particular techniques such as drawing fan art,writing fan fiction, constructing models, or creating anime music videos (AMVs). Cos-play panels have featured at nearly every Australian non–profit convention (and at everyconvention that includes panel events). They typically fall into this second category ofpanel as their content is usually focused on the topic of how to construct a cosplay cos-tume or more specific elements such as how to pose for cosplay photography, constructarmour or apply makeup.

3.2 The Performance of Cosplay Values and Skilled Vi-sion

Although panels are ephemeral performance events presented to a limited audience, anaudience broadened when panels are recorded and shared online, they provide a fruitfulstarting place for the analysis of cosplay communities of practice as in these events pan-ellists and their audiences attempt to present and define the nature of cosplay. This chap-ter will explore the performance of cosplay values and the (re)creation of communitiesin cosplay panels. Panels can be considered ‘performances of self’ (Goffman, 1990)as participants enact the roles as masters and novices, and as ‘cultural performances’(Turner and Schechner, 1988) as the events allow cosplay communities to reflexivelyexamine the practice of cosplay and its values.

In hour–long presentations, panellists attempt to instruct and induct audiences in some


of the key values of cosplay: accuracy, completism, spectacle, amateurism, and cre-ativity. These values can be considered aesthetic and ethic as they outline how cosplayshould look, and how it should be enacted. Panellists communicate these values not onlythrough the verbal content of their lectures but through the use of objects, their owncostumed bodies, and photographs of other cosplayers. While the costumes and per-formances of cosplay are remarkably varied, in panel performances presenters attemptto represent cosplay as cohesive entity. In these temporary performances cosplayersattempt to structure and fix the meanings of the practice.

Panels, as temporary assemblies of practitioners, newcomers and non–practitioners, alsoprovide an introduction to cosplay communities. Panels introduce the social world ofcosplay: a world populated by masters, newcomers, ‘serious’ and non–serious partic-ipants, performers and audiences. Panellists, as experienced or master cosplayer areexemplary practictioners, presenting explemplary cosplay practice. The embodied per-formances of panellists attempt to induct newcomers and outsiders in a community–specific competency, a form of cosplay ‘skilled vision’ (Grasseni, 2007). Grasseni(2007) has argued that the acquisition of community–specific forms of skilled visioncan be a form of legitimate peripheral participation and an essential step towards fullparticipation in a community. At cosplay panel events, members and newcomers to thecosplay community are temporarily assembled, key community values and competencesare created, recreated and distributed to the wider convention–attending public.

Cosplay panels are performative events where participants, panellists and audiences, at-tempt to define what cosplay is, and how it should be practiced. Issues of what doesor should define cosplay and non–cosplay, good and bad cosplay, good and bad cos-players, and the activities, objects and competences which are considered meaningfulwithin the practice, are all discussed within visual and verbal content of panels. Theo-rists of practice have argued that the meanings associated with a particular practice arecontinually in a process of being negotiated and defined (Giddens, 1984; Shove et al.,2012; Wenger, 1998). However, these same theorists have also argued that particularkey concepts may play a role in structuring or organising all meanings associated witha particular practice. Giddens (1984, p.185) posits the existence of ‘structural princi-ples’, deeply held beliefs and concepts that potentially shape the trajectory of practicesand societies. Similarly, Wenger (1998, p.58) in his development of the community ofpractice concept argues that communities of practice are organised by ‘reified values’,

3.2. THE PERFORMANCE OF COSPLAY VALUES AND SKILLED VISION 49

‘points of focus around which the negotiation of meaning becomes organized’. Whilethey perform structuring work, these particular values or concepts are themselves struc-tured, created and recreated. According to Wenger (1998) reification is a process; valuesare reified through practice, performance, and the creation of material artefacts. Certainvalues become intrinsic to practices–as–entities through their enactment in practices–as–performances.

Theorists have emphasised the structuring role that aesthetic values can play within acommunity or society. Coote (1992, p.248) argues that aesthetics can be defined as a‘society’s way of seeing’ and that the induction into a shared system of visual perceptionand evaluation can be a means of strengthening one’s identity as a member of the com-munity. Art sociologist Becker (1982, p.131) argues that aesthetics can be considered an‘activity’ in that the creation and maintenance are actively and continually constructedby members of a community. While Bourdieu (1990) primarily tends to consider aes-thetics as markers of underlying social, economic and class structures, within specificartistic and craft communities it could be argued that aesthetic systems can be viewedas ‘structuring structures’ which are reproduced in practice, which must be learned andphysically inscribed upon the body.

Aesthetic values cannot be dismissed as trivial adjuncts to other values and beliefs asthey can be deeply entwined with a community’s moral values and the production ofsocial relationships (Overing, 1989). The connection between aesthetics and ethics hasbeen emphasised by recent explorations of stylistic authenticity in cultures and subcul-tures (Thornton, 2013; Muggleton, 2000). In the concept of authenticity aesthetic stylesare intimately connected with the internal dispositions of practitioners (Thornton, 2013;Muggleton, 2000). In the production of authentic performances, artefacts and stylespractitioners must use the correct tools, materials and techniques in the appropriate con-texts and carry out the activity with the correct attitudes and intensions.

An aesthetic way of seeing, can be considered inherently political in that it involvesmembers of the community evaluating and ranking things whether those things are cows(Grasseni, 2007), pottery (Gowland, 2009) or handmade chocolates (Terrio, 2000). AsBecker (1982) argues, aesthetic systems can be intricately linked with the allocation ofpower and resources of a community as those who are able to produce, own, or createthings that are valued within the system have greater access to social and economicresources.


Within a community of practice aesthetic values do not exist purely as concepts; theyare intimately associated with practical, embodied skills. These values and skills donot exist a priori within the community but must be recreated by existing practitionersand taught to newcomers (Shove et al., 2012; Wenger, 1998). Cosplay is a practicethat is primarily concerned with the visual: the look of costumes, props, illustrations,bodies, embodied performances and photographs. For this reason, debates about theaesthetics and ethics of cosplay are often discussions of how things bodies, costumesand performances should look, how these looks should be created, and how visualthings should be interpreted.

The question of how people acquire culturally specific ways of seeing, including aes-thetic systems, has recently become the subject of anthropological discussion such asGrasseni’s (2007) collection Skilled Visions: Between Apprenticeship and Standards.Grasseni and others (Herzfeld, 2007; Gowland, 2009) explore the ways that membersof different communities professional and subcultural are taught particular ways ofviewing their worlds. An understanding and appreciation of a particular aesthetic sys-tem, be it cattle breeders’ definitions of bovine functional beauty (Grasseni, 2004) orperformers’ shared understandings of a drag queen’s ‘divine’ qualities (Ronzon, 2007),can be considered a form of skilled vision.

Drawing on Lave and Wenger (1991), Grasseni argues that learning to see is a socialactivity and one which is tied to the formation of a person’s identity as a member ofa community of practice. The training of skilled vision can take place in highly for-malised learning environments such as lectures and classes as well as in the everydaylives and experiences of community members (Grasseni, 2007). As in the case of craftapprentices, learning may occur in the repeated exposure to the works and workshopsof artisans (Gowland, 2009). Objects, ephemera, films and photography can also beused as a means of reinforcing aesthetic systems (Grasseni, 2007; Ronzon, 2007). Non–visual means such as verbalisation conversations, performances, songs, lectures andjokes, are often instrumental as the definition and classification of the seen are also ex-pressed in words and speech (Grasseni, 2007; Ronzon, 2007; Herzfeld, 2007; Saunders,2007). Photography, costume objects and verbal narratives are all assembled in the per-formances of cosplay panellists as they attempt to induct their audiences in a cosplay‘way of seeing.’

I will explore the teaching of cosplay ‘skilled vision’ by considering panellists’ presen-

3.3. WHO TEACHES? WHO LISTENS?: ESTABLISHING AUTHORITY 51

tations as performances. I will particularly focus on the verbal narratives performedby panellists as well as their physical gestures and their incorporation of material el-ements. Speech acts are important elements of a performance as they can providecontext, change the way objects and gestures are perceived and create relationshipsbetween different events (Jones and Shweder, 2003). Panel performances are also mate-rial performances; objects, images, spaces, technologies and performers’ own costumedbodies play an intrinsic role in panel presentations. As evident in the description ofthe presenter’s use of the photographs of the “Rock Lee” cosplayers, panellists teachthe aesthetic values of cosplay through explicit reference to material examples. Mate-rial culture theorists have argued that in talking about objects, narrating their culturalbiographies, describing processes of production and consumption, individuals and com-munities strengthen and extend objectifications (Hoskins, 1998; Shankar, 2006; Wood-ward, 2007a). In talking with and through material things cosplay panellists connectcostumes, photographs and practitioners to aesthetic values shared within the commu-nities of practice.

3.3 Who Teaches? Who Listens?: Establishing Author-ity

Panel performances teach cosplay values and skills to audiences but they also inductand position these audiences within a community of practice. Panel events involvethe temporary assembly of members of local communities of practice. Newcomers,experienced practitioners and masters alike, come together in a temporary location toarticulate, (re)create and negotiate the values and skills associated with cosplay. Theperformance of community skills and values should be considered as a political pro-cess (Herzfeld, 2007; Saunders, 2007; Gowland, 2009). As Herzfeld (2007) points out,the transmission of knowledge including knowledge of a way of seeing is a politicalactivity in which the knowledgeable and skilled members of a community can controlnewcomers’ access to information, skills and techniques. The process of learning to seeoccurs within the pre–existing power structures of communities and may involve thelearner being positioned within a hierarchy of roles (Saunders, 2007). (Saunders, 2007)argues that the spaces in which the training of embodied practices occurs can also serve


to reinforce the hierarchical structures of the community. The teaching of the practiceof cosplay at convention panels is intrinsically linked with an introduction to a cosplaycommunity of practice, its roles and hierarchies.

For many convention–goers initial awareness of cosplay panels comes from readingconvention guides and schedules. These booklets, many of which are elaborately de-signed and brightly coloured, are handed out free to attendees at every major Australianconvention. The same information is often available to convention attendees via pdffiles displayed on the convention’s website or even downloadable as mobile phone ap-plications. Cosplay and other panels are not only displayed on maps and timetables butconvention booklets usually include a description of the panels, outlining the content tobe presented and naming or describing the presenters.

Are you new to costume playing? Or just want some tips for your next Cos-play outfit? Well look no further and come and visit the Cosplay Panel tolearn from some of Adelaide’s best about costuming! (AVCon 2010 Booklet)

Reading the descriptive advertisements for panels in convention booklets provides anentry into understanding the political contexts of this performance activity, raising ques-tions such as who has the authority to speak among the community and who actuallylistens?

Several key themes emerge from this reading. Firstly, descriptions of panels usuallyinclude explicit or implicit suggestions of the type of audience that organisers expectto attend the panel. ‘New to costume playing’ (AVCon 2010 booklet), ‘New cosplay-ers’ ‘Beginner class’, ‘Master Class’ (SMASH 2011 booklet). In some cases panels aredescribed as being appropriate for both newcomers and experienced members of thecommunity. In other instances, usually at larger conventions with multiple cosplay pan-els scheduled, panels are described as being divided into those that are appropriate forbeginners and those that are suitable for those ‘ready to tackle the hard stuff’ (SMASH2011 Booklet).

Walking into a cosplay panel at an Australian convention I was visually struck by thediversity of the audience. Seated in the rows of metal chairs or lounging nonchalantlyagainst the walls were elaborately dressed cosplayers in makeup and coiffured wigs,others dressed in simpler costumes or pieces of costume such as hats or cat–ears, othersdressed in casual clothing. As the booklet descriptions of the panels suggest, cosplay

3.3. WHO TEACHES? WHO LISTENS?: ESTABLISHING AUTHORITY 53

panels are not solely for newcomers or beginners but instead a spectrum of the cosplaycommunity of practice can be encountered at panels. Friends of the presenters shoutwords of encouragement or suggestive in–jokes and assist with fixing the endlessly fail-ing laptop. Experienced cosplayers in detailed outfits are often invited by panellists tostand up and model their costumes. Then, there are others, more casual observers whomay flit tourist–like into panel room for a brief period of time before leaving for othercon activities. Panels are not events that solely feature interaction between a cosplay‘master’ and a group of newcomers instead other masters, old–hands, casual–observersand newcomers mingle together in the audience providing newcomers with a formof legitimate peripheral participation in this cosplay community of practice (Lave andWenger, 1991).

Secondly, cosplay panel descriptions in convention booklets name, or describe the pre-senters of the panel. Language used in the booklets to describe the panellists includesterms such as ‘cosplay master’, ‘sensei’ and ‘the best’ (AVCon 2010 booklet, Manifest2010, SMASH 2011 booklet). While these terms are self–mockingly grandiose, cosplaypanel descriptions are usually written by the panellists themselves and published by theconvention organising committee, they still convey the idea of the panellists as teacherswith the authority to address the cosplay community. Panel performances recreate alevel of stratification in the cosplay community of practice; experienced, ‘master cos-players’ are elevated above newcomers and less experienced or successful practitioners.How experienced cosplayers perform themselves as masters in other contexts will beexplored further in Chapter 7.

Returning to the cosplay panel room, one can observe how the spatial arrangement ofthe panel room itself emphasises the idea of the panellist as teacher or lecturer. Rowsof identical seating are positioned facing a space at the front of the room where a ta-ble and chair are set up for the presenter’s use. A projector displays large images of aPowerPoint presentation against a blank wall or screen. For a considerable proportionof the community who are attending or recently have attended high school or univer-sity this is a familiar scene a lecturing space. As Goffman (1981) has argued lecturingspaces are performance spaces with a clear delineation between presenter/performerand listener/audience. The lecturer is assumed to possess particular bodies of knowl-edge and the verbal competences to impart this knowledge to their audience (Goffman,1981).


At the commencement of the panel, presenters will sometimes further emphasise theirauthority by mentioning the number of years in which they have been involved in cos-play. Occasionally, panellists will ask the audience the same question. On one occa-sion, the responses from some audience members of a panel indicated that they wereeven more experienced than presenters, a realisation that was met with nervous laughterfrom panellists and audience alike. The establishment of the panellists as experiencedcosplay ‘masters’ is necessary, for as the following section will demonstrate, panels aresites where some of the key values of the practice of cosplay are presented, taught anddebated.

3.4 Accuracy

At a cosplay panel at AVCon in Adelaide the first presenter Ben, dressed as “Prof.Severus Snape” from the Harry Potter series of films, has finally managed to get thepanel room’s laptop to work. Technical difficulties are overcome and he is now able todisplay a projected PowerPoint slideshow. He addresses the audience, embarking on thecentral theme of his speech,

So essentially if you want to begin a costume, if you want to do a costume,the biggest thing to do, the best thing to do is to find pictures of the cos-tume. I do reference sketches, lots of them, everywhere. And get picturesof every angle you can possibly get. So the front, the back, the full body,even sometimes finding details in the shoes is important and even if theyhave accessories if they have a weapon, a hat, something like that or ascrewdriver. (Ben, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

Here the presenter is discussing a topic frequently explored in cosplay panels, a topicwhich I will refer to as research. Members of the cosplay community frequently use theterm ‘research’ to describe the process of finding images of the character that they planto cosplay. What is implicit in the presenter’s opening words and the concept of researchis the idea that cosplay practices should be focused upon the accurate recreation of thevisual style of a specific character or character type originating from a pre–existingtext.

3.4. ACCURACY 55

In many presentations panellists emphasised the idea that cosplayers in their creationof costumes and performances should strive for ‘accuracy’. A cosplayer should seekto make their costume and/or performance reproduce an original design, text or perfor-mance as closely as possible. As I will describe below, in panel performances accuracywas primarily given to mean visual accuracy, that a cosplayer’s costume should visuallymimic a pre–existing character design. While some cosplayers used the terms ‘accu-racy’ or ‘authenticity’ interchangeably to describe this idea, I will refer to the conceptas accuracy in order to distinguish between anthropological and sociological under-standings of authenticity and this cosplay–specific understanding.

According to the cosplay concept of accuracy, a costume item or performance gainsmeaning only in its relation to a pre–existing design. As in Grasseni’s (2007) study ofidealised forms of cattle beauty among breeders, the value of the thing, in this case acosplay costume, depends on its visual resemblance to a pre–existing model which isthen applied as a standard. Applying Gell’s (1998) concept of the art nexus, the cosplaycostume or performance acts as an index for the original design as prototype. For cos-players who are strong proponents of accuracy research is deemed to be an importantelement of cosplay in that it helps the cosplayer ensure that their self–created costumesand performances replicate the original character designs and texts as closely as possi-ble.

In this emphasis on accuracy cosplay differs from other costuming communities andmovements associated with the Australian convention scene such as Steampunk, a move-ment which emphasises the creation of original character costumes, and the costumesdevised for Zombie walks which are typically original characters or subverted and“zombiefied” versions of recognisable icons and characters such as zombie “Spider-man” and zombie Jesus. As will be discussed in succeeding chapters, the concept ofaccuracy is an important value within the community and is discussed, debated, materi-alised, embodied, performed and digitised in practice.

In panels the importance of research in ensuring the accuracy of a cosplay costume isperformed to the audience through both visual and verbal means. Presenters will oftenbegin this part of the presentation by suggesting sources of images of characters such aswebsites, art books, videogame covers, self–created screen shots, and often will showscreen captures or the actual websites on PowerPoint slides. Personal anecdotes arealso used by some presenters who will tell a story of where they personally obtained


images for their costume. However, in terms of teaching the value of accuracy as away of seeing, the most critical parts of a panellist’s discussion of research are themoments in their presentation when they instruct the audience in how to identify the‘features’ (Goodwin, 1994) of accuracy. This often manifests in panellists verballyproposing questions to the audience which audience members are then, in turn expectedto internalise when participating in cosplay activities.

And the next thing to do, particularly if you’re going to be sewing or you’relooking for something in op–shops and stuff like that is to consider the typeof texture of the material the shine, the drape, transparency, the type ofgarment it is. Is it tight or loose fitting on the body? How easy it is to makeit or source it? (Ben, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

Exploring the ways that specialised forms of vision are taught and discussed in profes-sional settings, Goodwin (1994) identifies an activity he terms ‘highlighting’ to describehow a member of a practitioner may draw attention to particular features of an imageor physical thing in order to identify its most relevant aspects for an audience featuresthat may not be noticed or appear relevant to an untrained eye.

Next looking at the fabric, the texture and the fabric type. You need to lookat the grain of the fabric. Some, like a fabric called drill the grain is on anangle, [holds up dustcoat] and this one here has a very definite grain. So ifyou have a really good look at close up shots you get to see all these detailsand they can make the difference between a really, really good costume andone that looks kind of average. (Liz, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

Here, in this example of panel performance the presenter is highlighting, inviting theaudience to view a garment, a costume dustcoat jacket, in a very particular manner.She holds up the garment to illustrate with her hands the way that the fabric has beenwoven and also to demonstrate that the weave of the material matches the appearanceof videogame character’s costume shown in the PowerPoint slide behind her. As amiddle–class Westerner with no training in textiles and who wears exclusively manu-factured garments I frequently found these moments in panels particularly illustrative ofthe contrast between a cosplay ‘way of seeing’ and my own. I was unaware that fabrichad a grain, let alone that a cosplayer should be able to examine and draw comparisonsbetween digital illustrations of fabric and actual, physical material.

3.4. ACCURACY 57

As in this example, accuracy for a cosplayer extends to minute details. In their speechespanellists emphasise that these questions that a cosplayer should internalise while at-tempting to choose materials should be considered very carefully. ‘What colour isthe character’s garment?’ may appear to be a question with an obvious answer, how-ever,

‘A blue depending on the lighting can end up looking like purple...’ ‘Alsowhite isn’t always white. White can look grey as well.’

(Liz, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

With the use of speech and visual examples panellists highlight the features that willneed to be imitated or reproduced to achieve accuracy colours, textures, shapes andpatterns. The panellists’ speeches imply that listening cosplayers should internalise thisattention to detail when creating their own costumes.

The value of accuracy is also communicated by presenters through ‘compare and con-trast’ activities where the audience is presented with images of different cosplay cos-tumes which are the presenter then evaluates according to their apparent likeness to thepre–existing character. Returning again to the panel described at the start of the chap-ter, immediately before the audience were shown the images of the two different “RockLee” cosplayers, the presenter showed us a slide with an image of the character as de-picted in the anime Naruto (Kishimoto 2002). The presenter did not tell us from whereshe had sourced the image but the image showed the illustrated character in full bodyon a white background. The presenter only briefly named the character and the series.The series is currently one of the most recognisable in contemporary anime fandom andshe would have expected the audience to have some pre–existing knowledge of “RockLee” and the Naruto world.

As the audience seated facing the metre–high projected images in the manner of a cin-ema or university lecture theatre we were invited, indeed expected, to closely observethe image and the slides that would follow after. But we were not invited merely to look;the presenter continued to speak and gesturing towards the slides the presenter instructedus to focus on “details” while she explicitly pointed out the similarities and differencesbetween the original anime character design and the two different cosplay costumes.This activity could be considered a form of ‘optical induction’ (Ronzon, 2007) wherean image or environment is scanned by sight and discussed verbally, the whole effect of


the object being determined by whether it possesses the ‘correct’ features. However, inRonzon’s (2007) original conception of ‘optical induction’ consensus as to whether theobject is valued depends on a verbal consensus from participants, whereas in this case avalue judgement is verbalised by the presenter and tacitly agreed by the audience.

The idea that cosplayers should strive towards ‘accurately’ recreating character designsin cosplay costumes was promoted at many of the panels I attended during fieldwork.However, as I will discuss in later chapters, within the wider cosplay community therewas considerable disagreement and variation of opinion over the definition and impor-tance of accuracy. Different panellists emphasised the importance of accuracy to dif-ferent extents. Some panellists devoted considerable time to discussing how cosplayerscould and should create accurate cosplays, to the extent where some panellists advocatedsacrificing bodily comfort to achieve accuracy. In contrast, other panellists I observedactually challenged accuracy as the primary value of cosplay and instead emphasisedalternative values.

3.5 Completism

Closely associated with accuracy is the aesthetic value of ‘completism’. Completism isnot a word I have heard in common parlance within the cosplay community of practice.It is a term I have coined to describe another key value of the cosplay aesthetic system,the idea that cosplayers should aim to make their costume as total or ‘complete’ aspossible. Within the Australian cosplay community of practice there exists an idea thatan individual is not supposed to solely make and wear individual aspects of a character’scostume a perfectly recreated version of a character’s hat or a spectacular prop thoseparts of the costume are supposed to add to the visual effect of the whole costume. Thecosplayer should be costumed from head to toe. This idea of cosplay completism israrely explicitly stated in the verbalisations of the presenters of cosplay panels but isinstead stated visually and implied in the content of presentations.

The only cosplay panel I attended during my fieldwork activities where a presenter wasnot actually dressed in cosplay was a cosplay photography panel (cosplay photographersbeing an important subgroup of the community for whom being in costume was notnecessary to their legitimate participation see Chapter 8). At all of the other cosplay

3.5. COMPLETISM 59

panels I attended the presenters were costumed, usually from be–wigged head to bootedor stilletoed toes. Standing or sitting at the front of the panel room or sometimes walkingamongst the audience’s rows of seating, the panellists made their fully costumed–bodieshighly visible to the audience.

Sometimes if the wearing of the panellist’s complete costume would make it impossiblefor him or her to make eye contact with the audience or speak if the panellist was wear-ing a suit of armour, for example the panellist would remove the mask. Interestingly, ininstances where it was the case that a panellist was not continually displaying all of theircostume on their bodies the missing components were often displayed elsewhere in thepresentation. Oversized prop weapons would rest against the panellist’s table or evenbe passed among the audience, allowing them to closely inspect and touch the items.Masks would be donned at the request of photographers at the beginning or ending of apanel. In some particular cases the revelation of a ‘missing’ cosplay component couldbe worked into the main content of the presentation:

A quick example which I haven’t really thought out since I’ve been up-grading this costume is that yes, I have a wand [with a theatrical flour-ish brandishes wand from inside his cloak]. It’s not always out [laugh-ter from audience]. Only for certain occasions [laughter from audience].

(Ben, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

With a highly conscious performative gesture and verbal joking innuendo, the panel-list dressed as wizard character Prof. Snape displays a prop wand that was previouslyconcealed from the audience. Drawing the audience’s attention to this small prop inthe most overt manner, the panellist began to lecture the audience on the importance ofincluding props and accessories as part of a cosplay costume. During the course of myfieldwork activities in panels I never heard any explicit verbal statements from panelliststo the effect that a person who created only a dress or a sword and wore them to a con-vention would be engaging in poor or even non–cosplay. However, panellists regularlyexpressed statements that apparently secondary articles such as wigs, shoes, props and


make–up would enhance or indeed complete a cosplay:

The final thing for finishing off a costume and sometimes what makes it, isyour props and your accessories. You would have seen today and you willsee in a moment some of the things that really help your costume and bringit to life. (Ben, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

Introductory panels I attended would often devote a substantial proportion of presenta-tion to aspects such as wigs, makeup and props. Being involved in dance and perfor-mance in my teenage years I had some familiarity with theatrical costumes and make–upbut I was quite surprised by the cosplay panellists’ strong endorsement of the need towear wigs. Wigs, as I personally discovered later during my own cosplay experiences,are hot, heavy and tend to cause headaches. Nevertheless panellists frequently espousedthe idea of the wig as an important, completing element of cosplay.

Wearing a wig will reinforce the idea that you are wearing a costume ratherthan just wearing some weird clothes.

(Presenter, Wai–Con Cosplay Panel Author’s Fieldnotes 2011)

Even the panellists at SMASH’s 2010 ‘Cosplay for Poor Students’ argued that it wasworth spending a considerable amount of money (starting price seventy dollars) on a‘quality’ wig, especially the purchase of a heat resistant wig to allow for styling withhair–curling and straightening tongs.

The necessary inclusion of props, makeup and wigs for the creation of a complete cos-play effect was sometimes further emphasised by panellists’ use of costumed audiencemembers as models of this effect. During one panel, midway through a speech on thetechniques of wig styling a panellist asked a cosplayer dressed as the titular characterfrom the anime Yu–Gi–Oh (Toei 1998) how many different hair pieces her wig was con-structed from. The cosplayer who was seated towards the front of the room then stoodup, allowing the rest of the audience to see her full body which was costumed from hervery high and colourful wig, to necklaces, clothes and shoes. She replied that she hadused one wig as a base and then had attached other pieces using glue and that the wholething was styled using glue and hairspray. Her hairpiece was praised by the panellistsas an example of effective styling. While the panellists’ verbalisations highlighted theparticipant’s wig as a feature, as the cosplayer displayed her entire costumed body tothe rest of the audience the effect was that of an entire “Yu–Gi–Oh” costume, not just

3.6. SPECTACLE 61

an elaborate wig.

While the aesthetic value of cosplay completism appeared to be universally acceptedand implied in the costumes, speeches and performances of panellists at all the cosplaypanels I attended during fieldwork, within the panel room there were those whose dresscontradicted this value of completism. As previously mentioned among the audiencesof many panels I attended there would be audience members dressed primarily in casualclothes with maybe one or two pieces of costuming cat ears, fox tails, a character’shat, a prop sword purchased from a trader’s hall. This kind of costume activity wasseldom discussed during cosplay panels , excepting one casual remark made by an Ade-laide panellist about another cosplayer, marvelling that ‘last year she painted her faceas “Hello Kitty” and this year she’s in the Madman National Heat’, (a major Australiancosplay competition requiring full costume, props and the performance of a skit). Inthe panellists comment was the implication that the cosplayer had progressed from aless serious form of costuming, face–painting, to a more complete and serious form ofcostuming.

The prominence of the idea of completism within the community influenced my owncostume choices. At the very first cosplay panel I attended at AVCon in 2010, I worea purchased character hat and casual clothes. In other contexts of the convention at-tendees had made positive comments about my hat. In the cosplay panel listening tospeeches given by cosplayers in full–body uniforms and armour, viewing photographsof cosplayers in full costume and touching the home–made silicon ear of a “Spock” cos-player I began to feel self–conscious about my hat. I felt definitely at that moment thatI was not cosplaying. Attending all subsequent panels I dressed either in casual clothes,or full cosplay. As became a more active participant in the community my costumesbecame more and more ‘complete.’

3.6 Spectacle

The concept of spectacle the idea that cosplay is performed for an audience to elicit aparticular response is also communicated in cosplay panels. In their speeches panellistscontinually discuss the look of things, designs, fabrics, paints, and how these itemswill appear to those viewing the costumes: will a cheap wig look too shiny? In these


Figure 3.1: “Delphox” (Photograph by Patrick Korbel)

3.6. SPECTACLE 63

comments there is always the assumption of an audience for the cosplay. Panellistswill remind audiences that their costumes will probably be photographed and that theyshould prepare for performing their costumes to audiences.

Practise stances that not only show off your costume for photographers butgive them a sense of the characters you are portraying.

(Cassandra, ACG Panel Transcript 2012)

The idea that cosplay is performed for an audience is also emphasised by the types ofcosplay costumes celebrated in panels, costumes that will appear exciting, attractive orrecognisable to audiences. Cosplay costumes may take many forms and styles depend-ing on their source material, from simple school uniforms to elaborate ball gowns orsuits of armour. However, in cosplay panels certain kinds of costumes tended to bepromoted over others. At most panels I attended panellists themselves were wearingspectacular costumes that is to say costumes that appear designed to dazzle the viewerand impress them with the power of the wearer, costumes appearing to be made of richvelvets and silks, lace, fur, leather, metallic, glass and reflective (as an informant put it,‘shiny’) elements.

The opulent appearance of these costumes is usually reflective of the original characterdesign the cosplayer has chosen to portray, the prototype (Gell, 1998). These opulentcostumes are the clothing of royal, priestly or soldierly characters in the source material.Interestingly, the source anime/manga/videogames are frequently themselves referenc-ing earlier prototypes and various cross–cultural aesthetic systems. The opulence ofthe eighteenth–century Versailles court is translated into the opulence of the characterdesign of “Marie Antoinette” from the anime The Rose of Versailles (1972), and thenagain by the cosplayer creating a “Marie Antoinette” costume in 2012.

At the ACG Costuming Panel at AVCon in 2012 two of the presenters were dressed inprize–winning costumes: one in hand–created “Cyberman” armour from Doctor Whoand the other in a brightly coloured “Lady Loki” costume from Marvel’s Thor comicswhich featured an elaborate helmet with golden curving horns.

Even panellists who wore relatively simple costumes when delivering their presenta-tions displayed images of spectacular costumes. The presenter of a leatherworkingpanel at SMASH in 2012, for example, wore a simple but striking handmade leatherjacket as part of his cosplay but his presentation included photographs of elaborate body


Figure 3.2: Spectacular breastplate

armour that he had worn when competing in the Madman National Championship Fi-nals. Pieces of the armour were even made available for audience members to touch andexamine.

In their narratives panellists would also emphasise the importance of a costume appear-ing visually appealing to audiences, even if the costume is physically uncomfortable towear or contains flaws that are visible only to the cosplayer. At AVCon’s 2010 Cos-play Panel, Jenita, an experienced cosplayer, commented on the maid outfit that shewas wearing. She explained that her garments were not sewn but put together with hotglue so the insides of the garments looked messy and unprofessional. To us membersof the audience the garments looked flawless with no visible evidence of the garments’unorthodox construction. She suggested to the audience that this is the case with manycostumes worn in competitions; they appear spectacular from the auditorium but areheld together with glue or gaffer tape. She further argued that knowing how to takeshort cuts in construction without compromising the outward visual appearance of acostume is a hallmark of an experienced cosplayer.

3.7. AMATEURISM 65

Jenita’s view characterises cosplay as a performance. Cosplays are assembled and wornby cosplayers but they are not created for the cosplayer alone. As a performance practicecosplay necessarily involves interactions between cosplayers as actors and spectatorsother cosplayers, audiences and photographers present or imagined. The cosplayer willbe observed and evaluated by other participants in the community. Cosplay, accordingto this view, is something performed for others. This understanding of cosplay con-trasts with another value of the cosplay aesthetic system, the value of amateurism inwhich cosplay practices are viewed primarily as acts of self–expression and personalaffiliation.

3.7 Amateurism

‘Cosplay is love!’ a panellist exclaimed during AVCon’s 2010 Cosplay Panel. The termamateur that describes a person who performs work activities on a part time, unpaidbasis that would be typically undertaken by a paid worker is derived from the Latin am-ator the lover (Stebbins, 1992). Within the contexts of convention panels and within thecosplay community of practice more broadly, a concept of amateurism that depicts loveas the most important and pure motivation for the practice is regularly promoted. Al-though it could be argued that there are no professional cosplayers,1 cosplayers regularlycompare their efforts with professional costumers stage, film and television, prostheticsartists, hair stylists and dressmakers. Within the convention community there also existfor–profit businesses, usually operating online, that create anime, manga and videogamecharacter costumes for customers to purchase (for example cosplaymagic.com). Eitzen(1989), examining the world of sports, identified within the athletics community an ide-ology of amateurism as the purest form of participation in that sport. Paid professionalswere deemed to be tainted by materialist drives in contrast to the amateurs who wereseen to be participating solely out of love (Eitzen, 1989). A similar ideology can beidentified within the Australian cosplay community, particularly during panels wherepurchased, professionally made costumes are barely discussed and self–created cos-tumes occupy the bulk of the discussion time.

1This is debatable as there exist a tiny minority of international cosplayers whose cosplay activitiesare used to promote particular companies and brands.


Within cosplay panel contexts self–created costumes are often described as being ob-jects of greater quality and value than professionally made costumes:

Be careful of online cosplay shops as well because sometimes they takeshortcuts when making their costumes to save on costs and manufacturingtime so they’re not always accurate. (Liz, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

Referring to the aforementioned value of accuracy, the presenter outlines the limitationsimposed upon professionals that inhibit them from creating a costume that would beconsidered a high quality cosplay within the community.

Unlike professional costumers who work to fulfil a brief, cosplayers are portrayed asbeing motivated by “purer” desires. In panels, cosplay is presented as a practice thatshould be enacted out of love; love for particular characters or texts, or the love ofpracticing assembly and performance activities. Sometimes panellists would explainto the audience their own personal motivations for creating particular cosplays. Oftenpanellists would depict their character choices as being motivated by a deep affiliationwith a particular character or text:

I admit that I was influenced in this costume by the Thor movie but theother reason that I wanted to do it, other than the fact that it’s just anamazing costume, visually is that I find the character of Loki fascinat-ing, be it Loki from the comics, movies or even the original mythology.

(Cassandra, ACG Panel Transcript 2012)

An idea that cosplay costumes should be motivated by feelings of personal identificationand affiliation has been identified in cosplay communities of practice in Japan, Chinaand the United States (Lunning, 2011; Rahman et al., 2012; Peirson-Smith, 2013).

However, within cosplay panels in Australia love of a particular character or text was notportrayed as the only acceptable motivation for character choice. Sometimes panellistswould relate that their character choice was not motivated by personal affiliation witha character but instead by their love of a particular craft technique. SMASH panellistWakaleo revealed that he based his costuming choices around character designs thatwould enable him to use his favoured technique, leather working.

As I will demonstrate further in subsequent chapters, this personal identification ex-tends beyond character choice and into costume assembly and performance activities.

3.7. AMATEURISM 67

To create good cosplay a practitioner must put themselves into the costume, their ef-fort, time, money and dedication. Ethnographers of material culture have argued thatindividuals have a close relationship with items which they have created themselves(Hoskins, 1998; Malkogeorgou, 2011). Cosplay costumes are assembled through ongo-ing ‘processes of objectification’ (Miller, 1987) through which cosplayers create closepersonalised relationships with their self–assembled objects. These objectification pro-cesses are performed to panel audiences in panellists’ construction narratives.

The visual and verbal narration of the creation of cosplay items reveals to the audiencethe amount of time and effort the cosplayer has put into the creation of the costume.Slides displaying photographs of different components of a single prop, at differentstages of the construction process emphasise the number and types of techniques used,the skills the cosplayer had to acquire. As a newcomer to the cosplay community ofpractice I found myself continually astounded by the number of hours spent on details,months spent on single costumes. Here, in the context of panellists’ discussions abouttheir processes the idea of the amateur the lover of cosplay again becomes relevant.The audience can now perceive the cosplay costume as an object produced as a labourof love.

In these narratives ideas of amateurism are fused with cosplayers’ particular under-standing of creativity. As an amateur costumer a cosplayer does not necessarily haveaccess to the same resources as a professional. Through necessity cosplayers do notalways use the same tools, materials, or techniques as a professional costumer. Panel-lists’ discussion and celebration of cosplayers’ transformation of unlikely ‘junk’ objectsinto spectacular costume items reveals a particular cosplay notion of creativity. In thepanellists’ narratives cosplay assembly processes are portrayed not as straightforwardmimicry but instead involve recreation and remixing as cosplayers transform unusualartefacts.


3.8 Creativity

We are quite good recyclers at the Australian Costumer’s Guild using bits ofwhat people call junk and we’ll always take a piece of junk and turn it intosomething really cool. And your options never end. A lot of us actually,when it’s hard rubbish day, we tend to go scouring up and down the street,looking around and seeing what people are throwing out and going, ‘howcan I use that?” (Ben, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

In a tone of considerable pride, the presenter from the Australian Costumer’s Guildannounces to the audience that he sources his materials not from high–end craft storesbut from household refuse. This announcement provokes laughter from some membersof the audience. Self–deprecating humour is also used by the panellist in the followingexample,

There’s quite a lot of random stuff you can use from everywhere the car-pet. I’ve used the carpet before for the sword handle because it was ex-actly the right colour and texture. I’ve ripped something out of a pool table[laughter] because of all the velvet it was all nice and stuff. But don’t dothat...[laughter] (Wirru, Wai–Con Prop Panel Author’s Transcript 2010)

In both cases the laughter from the audience, and in the panellist’s cautionary finalwords in the second example, suggest that salvaging rubbish and household items is notconsidered ‘normal’ behaviour in Australian society. However, the tone of enthusiasmand the pleasure in this activity communicated in both the panellists’ voices suggestedthat these anecdotes are far from confessions of shame but can perhaps be considered tobe boasts of competence in a particular visual skill the ability to see the creative cosplaypotential in mundane objects. In the cosplay activity of transforming junk, the materialsand equipment of the professional are replaced by the objects of the amateur’s everydaymaterial world.

In his study of zisha potters in the Jiangsu province of China, Gowland (2009) arguesthat in order for outsiders to appreciate the aesthetic value of handcrafted pottery artisanshad to invite potential customers into their workspaces and show and narrate the pro-cesses involved in the creation of the items. In a similar manner I will argue that in orderto demonstrate their skill in perceiving the value of ‘junk’ objects cosplay panellists nar-

3.8. CREATIVITY 69

rate stories of how they created spectacular costume items out of unlikely materials. Ata cosplay panel in Perth the panellist is recounting to the audience how he created his‘Final Fantasy 13 Noctis engine sword thing’ a large and highly detailed prop weapon.Gesturing with his hand, he draws the audience’s attention to the projected slide behindhim. It is covered with digital photographs of objects in various states of transformationhalf painted, cut up, sanded.

The two toilet pipes I’m talking about! The big pipe and the small pipethey’re for one engine and there’s the Lipton Iced bottle and there’s a sinkstrainer there. Then these bits were all made out of craft foam. That wasDAS air dry clay. And just a mixture of everything in that you get thesword!

Observing the photographs displayed on the slides in conjunction with the panellist’snarration, the audience perceives how the tea bottle, the plumbing pipes and the sinkstrainer were incorporated into the prop. Unrecognisable in photographs of the finishedprops, these everyday objects have been brought back into the visual awareness of theaudience by the panellist’s highlighting narrative. We in the audience now view theprop both as whole finished article but also as a constructed object created from un-usual materials. Rather in the manner of a magician revealing a trick the panellist isdemonstrating his creative and technical skills in explaining how he was able to createthis visual illusion. In this panel and others the panellist did not only demonstrate theirown skills but suggested that audience members may also develop the ability to see thecosplay potential in everyday things.

...So the point is just look at the things around you and maybe you can ripsomething off [laughter] (Wirru, Wai–Con Prop Panel Author’s Transcript 2010)

Listening to these narratives in panels I often felt a sense of excitement, imagining whatcreations I too could achieve. Self–created cosplay costumes could equal or rival thequality of professionally created costumes. A cosplayer could make anything out ofanything. However, while audiences were actively encouraged to participate in the ac-tivity of costume creation, to do–it–yourself (as Coy (1989) points out, newcomers areessential for the continuation of the community), panellists were also often quick to fore-warn newcomers that the transformation of a person from newcomer to master wouldnot be immediate. In their speeches panellists would often imply that some costumes


should not be attempted by novices:

And the big thing is, you might like a costume but initially, for your firstone you might want to think, is this something I can achieve right now?

(Ben, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

Highly detailed costumes and those requiring difficult to master techniques were seenas particularly problematic:

And it’s always a good idea to start easy and then start something moredifficult. Because if you start on a really difficult one and get frustrated it’seasy to give up. You need to start with something that’s more your level.Don’t start off with something really, really complicated like what Amy’swearing [gestures to Amy who is wearing a Yuna FFX costume. She latertook part in the Madman National Round] because there’s an awful lot ofdifferent materials in there, different techniques, dyeing, all sorts of thingslike that. (Liz, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2011)

Here, the panellist also describes the internal feelings that she personally experiencesand she imagines the audience will experience when failing to create a ‘good’ cosplay.A true cosplayer will feel upset, ‘de–motivated’ and ‘frustrated’ by their inability to cre-ate a wearable, accurate or spectacular cosplay. A cosplayer who does not personallycare if their costume is of poor quality is not an amateur. Panellists often remark thatlearning skills such as dyeing can take time, practice and trial and error. As in the case ofmany craft communities of practice (Singleton, 1998; Herzfeld, 2004) mastery of cos-play is viewed as something that must be achieved through study, dedication, and repeti-tion the learner progressing from the simple to the complex. By taking time to properlymaster cosplay techniques the cosplayer demonstrates their love of the costume, insteadof creating an outfit that looks “amateurish” (in the pejorative sense).

3.9 Conclusion: Cosplay Values and Aesthetics

At the end of forty–five minutes or an hour the panel ends. Audience members moveonto their next convention activity or mill about talking to panellists, asking ques-tions and photographing their costumes. Convention volunteers begin setting–up desks

3.9. CONCLUSION: COSPLAY VALUES AND AESTHETICS 71

and cables for the room’s next panel. This panel event has finished, nearly. If it hasbeen recorded by audience members, convention organisers or the panellists themselvesit may later appear in some digital form online to be accessed again by other audi-ences.

What do hour–long convention panel events achieve? What do its participants take awaywith them when they step outside into the corridor? For audience members the cosplaypanel provides them with an opportunity to participate on the peripheries of the practicebut does not make them into cosplayers.

Cosplay panels do, however, provide audience members with the opportunity to enterinto a community of practice. During panel presentations organisations such as theAustralian Costumers’ Guild do offer explicit invitations for newcomers to join. On asubtler level panels provide newcomers with a range of names and faces associated withcosplay, both panellists and audience members. I later encountered cosplayers I had metor watched at cosplay panels at other cosplay events in my local region of Adelaide.After attending panels at conventions interstate I would later see the panellists performonstage in competition, in photographs, videos and in online tutorials. Later in myfieldwork period some of my informants attended panels specifically to support theirfriends who were presenting.

For those already participating or seriously considering participation panels also provideaudience members with a wealth of potential resources: tutorial websites, online andoffline shopping places, and an introduction to potential cosplay materials. Particularlyin more advanced panels targeted at experienced cosplayers, current practitioners oftenhave the opportunity to ask questions of the panellists and obtain help with currentprojects. Experienced cosplayers publically ask detailed or specific questions that wouldoccur only to those who had embarked on their own cosplay projects:

Audience Member (female): Can somebody tell me how to use interfacing?

Audience Member (female): How do you cut a fringe?(SMASH Cosplay Panel Author’s Transcript 2012)

The panellists give responses to these questions and in this manner panellists and audi-ence members mutually recognise (Wenger, 1998) each other as practitioners.


Through presenting panels experienced cosplayers present and perform themselves asexperienced and knowledgeable practitioners to wider audiences. Panellists may alsopresent out of a desire to promote cosplay and strengthen the cosplay community. Ininterview Jenita, an experienced cosplayer, described experiencing stage fright whenpresenting panels but said that cosplayers need to assist each other and that she wantedto encourage cosplayers to develop their skills.

Cosplay panels provide a fleeting introduction to the participants in the community butthey also provide an introduction to the values and meanings of cosplay as a practice:accuracy, completism, spectacle, amateurism and creativity. Panels are events wherepanellists and audiences attempt to define the values and frameworks that shape cosplaypractices and render them meaningful; these values are performed and reified (Wenger,1998).

Agreement over what constitutes cosplay and how it should be practiced, however, isfar from completely uniform across the cosplay community of practice. Some of thevalues discussed by panellists seem to contain inherent contradictions. Panellists’ pro-motion of accuracy and the idea that cosplay is performed for audiences including othercosplayers and photographers, sits uneasily alongside the idea of cosplay as a form ofself–expression. Within panel performances cosplay activities are promoted simulta-neously as ‘fun’ and requiring considerable work–like effort and serious dedication onthe part of participants. How cosplayers, as groups and individuals, negotiate thesetensions in practice throughout a range of cosplay activities will be the focus of thefollowing chapters.

Values such as accuracy, completism, spectacle, amateurism and creativity may betaught and discussed in cosplay panels, but audiences may choose to accept or rejectthese ideas once they step out of the panel room. As the following chapters will ex-plore, the way that these ideas are truly experienced, rendered relevant and meaningful,and in some cases inscribed upon the body are through participation in practice. Thenext chapter will explore how cosplayers engage with and negotiate these values in anembodied and material sense through the assembly of cosplay costumes.

Chapter 4

(re)Creating the Costume; (re)Creatingthe Cosplayer

My first ‘serious’ cosplay was “Kusuri–uri” (the Medicine Seller) from the Toei anima-tion series Mononoke (2007). I use the word serious as it was the first of my costumes torequire more than several weeks’ work and included many components that I had con-structed myself. My cosplay of this strange, male, vaguely non–human, exorcist charac-ter with his brightly patterned female–style kimono and his demon–headed sword tookme about six months to construct and cost me in total over two hundred dollars. In thecourse of construction I learnt details of the styles and creation of traditional Japaneseclothing, beading techniques, how to use a sewing machine, where to order wigs online,and how to see ‘cosplay potential’ in everyday items. The hours I spent, the myriadskills I acquired, and the knowledge base I developed were for the express purpose of‘accurately’ recreating the visual appearance of an animated male character in the formof costume wearable by my physical, female body. I would end up later wearing it toconventions, competitions and a photo shoot.

Looking at its component parts, which are stored in various locations in my bedroom,I feel a genuine sense of affection for this collection of objects and memories of thecreation processes flood swiftly back. My Facebook profile picture, which can be seenby members of the cosplay community and my fellow postgraduate students alike, is atthe time of writing, a photograph of myself wearing that particular costume though Ihave made and worn many subsequent costumes since. In a way, I made it and it made

73

74 CHAPTER 4. (RE)CREATING

Figure 4.1: “Kusuri–uri” (Photograph by Corey Newcombe)

75

me.

The image of the cosplayer that is typically represented in photographs online or in tra-ditional media is the cosplayer wearing the costume. I will consider wearing costumesas a related activity to be discussed at length in the following chapter. This chapter how-ever, focuses on the more ‘everyday’ practice of cosplay assembly. Cosplay assemblyis essential backstage work which occupies cosplayers for the most part of the calendaryear. Between events cosplayers will be working on assembling outfits for the next up-coming occasion. While previous studies of cosplay tend to focus on the performativeaspects of the practice and neglect craft and assembly activities, in this chapter I willdemonstrate the fundamental role that costume assembly activities play in the recreationof cosplay as a practice.

Although cosplayers will often describe how they ‘made’ their costumes, or refer to thecosplay they are currently ‘making’, I refer to the activity as assembling the cosplay.The idea that outfit creation involves the assembly and negotiation of various elementsis a theme of some dress literature (Woodward, 2005; Hansen, 2005). Woodward (2005,p.21) has argued that dressing can be considered an act of ‘assemblage’ as individualsput together different items in order to create an aesthetic whole. Similarly, in her studyof outfit construction in Zambia, Hansen (2005) notes that the creation of a completelook involves the drawing together of materials, competences and values. Cosplay as-semblage often extends further than many dressing activities as cosplayers often chooseto assemble their outfits from raw materials. Cosplay outfits can be constructed in a myr-iad of ways: sewing, building, reworking premade materials. Competitors in a MadmanChampionship final, for example, will have each used different combinations of skillsand materials: some sew, some glue, some use leatherworking techniques and some usemoulding and casting methods. However, there is a unifying factor in all instances ofcosplay construction in that to a greater or lesser extent all cosplays are comprised ofa number of assembled parts. Cosplay costumes are assemblages. They involve thecosplayer ‘putting together’ different parts and transforming them into a unified visuallook. This process is evident in the ways that cosplayers work with both visual texts andphysical materials.

Why ‘assemblage’ and not ‘bricolage’ (Levi-Strauss, 1966; Hebdige, 1979)? Firstly,by using the term ‘assemblage’ I am attempting to distance the assembly practices ofcosplayers from the processes described by Levi–Strauss and Hebdige in their more


metaphorical use of the term bricolage. As I will argue further in this chapter, cosplayersdo not so much ‘borrow’ or invert the meanings of things, in the manner of the punksubculture described by Hebdige (1979), but rather divest objects of their ‘everyday’meanings and reinvest them with ‘cosplay’ meanings.

Secondly, Levi-Strauss’s (1966) metaphorical use of the term implies that the bricoleurdraws upon a restricted range of concepts in order to respond to new phenomena. Theimplications of a bounded set of concepts and techniques do not apply well to cosplay’sfluidity and dynamism. In the assembly of cosplay costumes cosplayers do not drawupon a limited range of knowledges and techniques but instead scour the globalised,digitised world for appropriate objects and skills. I regularly ordered wigs from HongKong and fellow cosplayer Santhosh even received construction suggestions from cos-players in Canada. It is the ability to discover, select and use new materials or techniquewhich is perceived as a hallmark of the skilled cosplayer and another aspect of creativityin the assembly process.

The creation of cosplay costume objects involves the assembly of materials and tech-niques but also the assembly of practitioners and communities. Drawing upon Miller’s(1987) interpretation of Hegel’s ‘objectification’, I will argue that as they attempt to as-semble costume objects cosplay practitioners also create themselves as cosplayers, gainskills, build relationships and identities, and negotiate their relationship with a commu-nity of practice. At first glance cosplay assembly may appear to be a straightforwardprocess in which the cosplayer simply recreates a pre–existing design. Cosplay cos-tumes appear to be like Baudrillard and Glaser’s (1994) ‘simulacra’ copies withoutoriginals, lacking in creativity, merely another mechanical reproduction of globalised,franchised imagery. However, closer examination reveals cosplay assembly processes tobe highly complex, involving the manipulation of images, objects and tools, and requir-ing practitioners to make ongoing creative choices. The reproduction practices associ-ated with cosplay assembly are not alienating in Marx et al.’s (1976) sense, but ratherinvolve the close association of practitioners, materials and communities. Cosplay cos-tumes are highly personalised, ‘inalienable’ objects in the sense of Weiner (1992).

This discussion of objectification and creativity in assembly processes is grounded andinspired by conversations regarding the nature and importance of cosplay assembly en-countered in the field. Costume assembly is a popular topic of discussion in onlinecosplay forums, on Facebook, in cosplay magazines, in blogs and interviews and in

4.1. COPYING, CREATION AND CREATIVITY 77

conversations among cosplayers. Throughout fieldwork the questions, ‘Can you de-scribe how you made your costume?’ or ‘How did you make/do the ...?’ nearly alwaysprompted ready and detailed responses. The narratives of cosplay construction are oftenhighly performative particularly within contexts such as cosplay competition interviews(which will be discussed in depth in Chapter 7). The data for this chapter is drawn fromall the aforementioned sources of cosplay assembly narratives as well as from my ownexperiences of participating in cosplay assembly, creating my own cosplay costumes(over ten so far) or assisting in the assembly of other cosplayers’ costumes.

4.1 Copying, Creation and Creativity

Ostensibly the practice of cosplay assembly is centred upon the action of copying as cos-players recreate pre–existing character designs as material, wearable costumes (Truong,2013). To outsiders, the time, effort and money spent on the assembling of cosplayoutfits can sometimes appear strange or even ridiculous. Daniel was a non–cosplayerwho became a novice cosplayer during the course of my fieldwork. He attended his firstconvention, AVCon 2012, with me and a number of cosplaying friends. We were walk-ing through the videogames area where a panel on cosplay construction given by theAustralian Costumers’ Guild was being streamed onto a projection screen. The presen-ter was describing the vacuum forming technique which is used to create sophisticated,detailed armour parts for costumes. Daniel turned to me and said,

Oh yeah, I’m just going to vacuum–hydro–tetro form myself some armour!These people put all this time and money into these things, for what? Theycan’t even wear them around every day. (Author’s Fieldnotes 2012)

These comments expressed the idea that the efforts and skills of the cosplayer are es-sentially meaningless. Their energies are misdirected towards an activity that createsan ephemeral object, which can serve no purpose in everyday contexts, can bring nofinancial reward or recognition within the wider community. This attitude is some-times reinforced by the popular media such as the commercial television program, TheProject, which has presented stories on cosplay events which ridicule cosplayers as mis-guided social outcasts misdirecting their time and effort towards the trivial celebrationof popular culture.


Cosplay construction, like many other fan practices, has been derided in portrayals bythe Western media due to the activity’s perceived lack of ‘creativity’ or ‘originality’,for further examples see (Jenkins, 1992). Cosplay, like other forms of fan art, involvesthe incorporation of existing characters, images and stories. Cultural theorists of fanconsumption have deconstructed the idea of fan practices as being creatively bankruptthrough describing the variations that are achieved through the recombination of differ-ent elements from the original texts; Jenkins (1992) terms this, ‘textual poaching’ afterde Certeau (1984). de Certeau’s (1984) idea of the consumer as a ‘poacher’ portraysthese acts as tactics of agency and resistance to the dominance of the producer. Jenk-ins’s approach can also be linked to broader notions of intertexuality (Kristeva, 1980),the use of one text in the creation of another.

The discussion of the creativity of fan practices forms part of a wider ongoing conversa-tion concerning reproduction and creativity in sociological and anthropological theory.Notions of copying and creativity in these disciplines have been heavily influenced byWestern philosophical traditions. Within these traditions the concept of the copy isdependent upon the idea of the existence of an original, a work created by an authoror authors and which is deemed either entirely innovative or to represent a significantvariation in pre–existing conventions (Clarence–Smith, 2008). After the developmentof the concept of the sole author throughout the Enlightenment and into the RomanticMovement, anxieties about copying and originality in Western Art worlds were furtherexacerbated by the rise of mechanisation and mass (re)production during the IndustrialRevolution (Toby, 2008). The fear that the ideal of the individual craftsperson, the smallscale workshop and the handcrafted work would be destroyed by mass production gaverise to such responses as the reactionary Arts and Crafts Movement and Marx et al.’s(1976) notion of the alienation of the worker from the act of production. Fordism andthe beginnings of the Information Revolution in the twentieth–century were to promotethese fears even further.

Ethnographic explorations of art and craft creation in non–Western traditions providechallenges to the Western art tradition view of the copy/original dichotomy. Recentmaterial culture approaches have explored copying by analysing both product and pro-cesses of production, in both physical art/craft forms and performance media such ascalligraphy (Carpenter, 2008; Nakamura, 2007), ritual dance (Averbuch, 2008) and vi-sual patterns (Mall, 2007). The purposes and meanings of copying practices can vary

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widely depending on context. Copying in certain craft forms may serve to re–enact thepower and processes of a particular ritual (Averbuch, 2008; Law, 2008). In other con-texts copying is seen as a learning technique to discipline both the body and the mindof novice and bring about proper understanding of the art or craft form (Nakamura,2007). Mimicry with variation is an essential element of many satirical or parody forms(Toby, 2008). Copies may even exert a form of agency over those who encounter them,dazzling subjects with the technical brilliance of their mimicry (Gell, 1996). Acts ofcopying and recreation may require practitioners to negotiate traditions with personal in-novations (Hughes-Freeland, 2007; Olesen, 2009). Cross–cultural anthropologies haverevealed that copying is not a straightforward act of reproduction but instead involvescreative choices, innovations and negotiations.

Cosplay copying activities may also be considered ‘creative’ in an alternative sense. InMiller’s (1987) reworking of Hegel’s ‘objectification’ relationships between people andmaterial things are portrayed as co–creative as it is through interactions with the exter-nal world that individuals come to create a sense of self. Objectifications can thereforebe viewed as intrinsically ‘creative’ processes. While Miller’s application of the ob-jectification concept has been primarily applied to the consumption of material goods,see for example (Miller, 1998, 2001a,b), recent anthropological approaches studyingthe production of artefacts have also emphasised this co–creative aspect (Olesen, 2009;Rice, 2010; Malkogeorgou, 2011). Through interacting with objects practitioners cre-ate identities, biographies and relationships with others (Rice, 2010; Malkogeorgou,2011).

While Miller’s (1987) model of objectification processes primarily focuses on the rela-tionship between artefacts and individuals, the assembly process of cosplay costumesinvolves the continual interrelation of artefacts, individuals and the wider cosplay com-munity. Recent material culture studies of craft production have emphasised its socialnature and emphasised that artefacts are produced through the negotiation of traditionsand community aesthetics (Giuffre, 2009; Olesen, 2009; Malkogeorgou, 2011). As cos-players involved in assembly processes must continually negotiate between often con-flicting community values and their own desires and competences, the recreation ofcostume objects can also be viewed as a recreation of cosplay communities and theirvalues.


Wenger (1998) has argued that even activities conducted in isolation can be consideredsocial activities as they are rendered meaningful through the individual’s imagined in-teractions with absent audiences and other practitioners. The practitioner does not, infact, work alone but instead works within the social contexts of traditions, establishedtechniques and rules which are learnt from others (Dobres, 2001, p.53).The cosplayerhunched over their sewing machine in the private space of their lounge room is stillengaged in a social activity. Cosplay assembly is both an act of self–creation by thecosplayer and a participation in a community practice. The desires of the practitionermust be weighed against the (imagined) requirements of a potential audience. Many ofthese negotiations are centred upon the community value of ‘accuracy’ and the practi-tioners’ ability to produce a visually accurate material representation of a pre–existingimage. Drawing on recent ethnographic literature on material culture, craft and perfor-mance, I argue that the production of creative works always involves the negotiation ofself in relation to multiple others and/or established traditions. In this way processesof objectification do not only create practitioners but also practices and communities ofpractice.

4.2 Stages of the Assembly Process

Cosplayers describe the assembly process in many different ways. At the CosplaySewing panel held at SMASH 2012 the presenters suggested that most cosplayers liketo imagine their processes in a linear fashion. This linear idea of cosplay process beginswith the activity of finding reference materials, moves onto activities such as garmentconstruction and wig–styling and ends with the existence of a wearable cosplay. How-ever, as the presenters then argued, the reality of the cosplay assembly process couldactually be conceived as a non–linear process with activities stopping and starting re-search activities and shoe fashioning occurring simultaneously. The presenters statedthat the purpose of their panel was to help cosplayers bring their activities in line with amore structured ordering of activities to enable them to complete their costumes by thecosplayers’ chosen deadlines.

The presenters’ discussion serves to illustrate that in contrast to other, more traditional,craft forms the processes of cosplay construction can be a lot more fluid and unfixed. A

4.2. STAGES OF THE ASSEMBLY PROCESS 81

cosplayer does not have to start by assembling the body garments, moving onto propsand shoes and ending with wig styling. This apparent lack of a fixed set of steps, anorder of processes, is also portrayed as a cause of anxiety to the cosplayer and a potentialhindrance to the construction of the costume.

However, observations from my fieldwork indicate that no matter which different mate-rials and techniques cosplayers use to put together costumes, all cosplay assembly prac-tices share similarities in that they all appear to all involve distinct activities or stagesin the process: choosing the character, research, collecting, mess and testing. Beforethe assembly process can commence cosplayers must first decide upon a character toperform, a decision that can require considerable thought and negotiation. Research canbe described as the activity of searching for reference images and texts for the purposeof creating a complete mental model of the chosen character’s visual look; collectingis the gathering of physical materials and craft competences which will be used in thecreation of the cosplay; mess describes the activity whereby the material objects cho-sen are broken down, shaped and transformed through the skills of the cosplayer; andtesting is the final activity where cosplayers compare their created physical costume totheir model of the character. While putting together their cosplays, all cosplayers willengage in each activity to a greater or lesser extent. Each activity may be performedonce for the costume as a whole – research, assemblage, mess, testing or performed asa sequence for separate costume parts, e.g. researching a character’s prop, assemblingthe materials and techniques, shaping and testing it.

Each of these stages of cosplay assembly involves processes of objectification. In de-ciding which character to cosplay a cosplayer may externalise an aspect of self, or al-ternatively objectify existing social relations and negotiations with other members of acommunity of practice. In undertaking research and developing a mental model of thecharacter cosplayers practically negotiate the value of accuracy. Through collecting ma-terials cosplayers again employ ‘skilled vision’ (Grasseni, 2007) and develop practice–specific knowledge. Through intensive tactile interaction in the mess stage cosplayersdevelop further technical competences and develop a personalised relationship with theobject. Finally, in the testing stage cosplayers prepare their assembled objects and con-sequentially themselves for evaluation by a wider cosplay community.


4.3 Choosing the Cosplay

Fundamentally underpinning the cosplay assembly process is the character (Lunning,2011; Okabe, 2012; Peirson-Smith, 2013). Characters chosen for cosplay are drawnfrom texts which are visual, linguistic, temporal and, in the case of film, televisionprograms and many videogames, auditory. In the case of film, television, anime andvideogame cosplays, the chosen character is often not the creation of a sole author butthe product of the collaboration between writers, designers, animators, directors and ac-tor. Within the cosplay community individual characters are often treated not as wholeentities but as comprising three aspects: the character’s visual look; the character’s ‘per-sonality’, including disposition, typical speech patterns and bodily comportment; andthe character’s role within a narrative (Eiji and Steinberg, 2010) or database (Azuma,2009). Each of these aspects of character is given greater or lesser emphasis by cosplay-ers in the contexts of different cosplay practices. In the practice of cosplay assembly itis the aspect of the character’s visual look which is the primary focus of attention as thepurpose of cosplay construction is the recreation of the character’s appearance in theform of a wearable costume.

A cosplayer’s decision to portray a particular character is often represented in com-munity and academic literature as a personal choice where the cosplayer individuallydecides upon a character from personal motivations, see for example (Lunning, 2010,2011; Peirson-Smith, 2013; Truong, 2013). This idea is closely associated with thecommunity value of amateurism as described in Chapter 3. However, in practice choiceof character is never a decision that a cosplayer makes without reference to the widercommunity of practice. As Woodward (2007b) has argued in her ethnography of thedressing practices of Western women, deciding what to wear can involve the negoti-ation of many competing elements including aesthetics, materiality, personal desiresand community expectations. Cosplay, like all forms of dress practice is performative;it is a strategic presentation of self (Goffman, 1990). An assembled costume will beworn on the cosplayer’s body, seen and evaluated by members of the local commu-nity, and, through digital distribution, potentially seen and evaluated by a wider onlinecommunity. In their decision–making processes cosplayers must negotiate a number ofelements their own desires and intentions, the desires and intentions of other cosplayersthey are working with, the performance contexts in which the cosplay will be worn, and

4.3. CHOOSING THE COSPLAY 83

the imagined desires of the potential audience of the costume.

Dress choice as an externalisation of self has long been a theme of anthropologicaldress literature (Strathern, 1979; Woodward, 2005). Drawing on Gell (1998), Wood-ward (2005) has argued that clothing can be viewed as a form of distributed person-hood. In cosplay the relationship between self and costume is regularly discussed andwithin Australian communities of practice the idea that cosplayers can or should selectcharacters on the grounds of personal identification was commonly expressed. Wheninterviewed as to why they chose to cosplay a particular character, cosplayers wouldregularly respond that they liked or admired that particular character, emphasised withthem or recognised aspects of themselves in that character:

My favourite thing about the character, I think, is that he’s got a really en-dearing personality and character but I was also very much drawn to the cos-tume design. (Sierra, Interview Video Madman Website Author’s Transcript)

My favourite thing about “Fai” is that he’s a very happy–go–lucky characterwith a very serious background to him so there’s a lot of depth and range inhim. I really enjoy it. It’s been a dream costume to do because he’s beena favourite character of mine for a long time.(Pistachio and Bubblegum, Interview Video Madman Website Author’s Transcript)

Alternatively, cosplayers saw the character as an aspirational model and they wanted tobe like that character for the duration of a performance:

I love wearing my “Pinkie Pie” because I can run around and go, ‘hee, hee,hee’ and just, like... be happy. (Renee, Author’s Interview 2012)

However, identification or admiration for particular characters or texts was often weightedagainst other concerns. Daniel wanted to cosplay as a character from the HBO’s Gameof Thrones, a favourite television series:

C: So if you could choose a Game of Thrones character?


D: I don’t know I’ve looked... I could do “Littlefinger” but I don’t thinkI’d be authentic enough to do “Littlefinger” because I’m too young. And Icould do one of the Lannisters but that’s too expensive so I don’t know...Because the barrier is going to be in the construction.

(Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

In these musings Daniel considers the potential factors that could affect his ability tocreate a successful “Littlefinger” cosplay: his youthful appearance, his competence andhis budget. As part of his decision–making process Daniel also looked online at thecostumes of other Game of Thrones cosplayers:

I’ve looked at what other people did. The first thing I did was I decided todo a Game of Thrones cosplay so I Googled it because we all post picturesof all these things on the internet. I wanted to see what everyone else haddone first so that I could work out if I could do it, and if I could do it notcrap. I didn’t want to do a really shit “Varys”, or something, and shove upmy pillow up my shirt if everyone else was an actual fat man with no hairwho looked exactly like the person. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

Daniel was unsure whether his costume could achieve a comparable standard or sur-pass pre–existing cosplays. In these comments Daniel anticipates his costume beingseen and compared with other cosplays at the convention or displayed in photographsonline. While he viewed the choice of potential cosplay as his own personal decision,this was not a decision to be made without considering others and their imagined re-sponses.

As dress theorists have argued choice of attire may be an act of personal expressionbut this personal desire is often negotiated against other influencing factors such asfashion and community expectations (Clarke and Miller, 2002; Banerjee and Miller,2003; Hansen, 2004; Sandikci and Ger, 2005; Woodward, 2007b). In some contextscosplayers may have very limited character choices. When participating in groups,cosplayers may be assigned a particular character by others or may choose a characteronly in negotiation with other team members. When participating in a Suckerpunchcosplay group for the film’s local premiere Julia did not choose to cosplay the charactershe performed. Describing the group’s process of assigning characters, Julia claimedthat she was happy cosplaying the character “Amber” but her role had been decided for

4.3. CHOOSING THE COSPLAY 85

her by other members:

J: [...] We didn’t have someone doing “Amber” for a while. I was going todo “Madame Gorsky” and then we realised we didn’t have an “Amber” so Igot pressured into doing “Amber”.

C: Do you ever get the situation where someone really looks like the char-acter but they really don’t want to do them?

J: I think people usually go along with it. One girl had the right hair for“Rocket” so they convinced her to make it.

(Julia, Author’s Interview 2012)

The reasons for assigning and negotiating character choices in these contexts often stemsfrom the group members’ desire to have all the major characters represented and avoidmultiple representations of individual characters in performance at events. Again, thiscan be seen as a reflection of the value of spectacle as choices are made in order to createa performance that will better appeal to an imagined audience.

Sometimes cosplayers may choose to cosplay as particular characters that will com-plement the costumes chosen by their friends, choosing characters that come from thesame text, series or franchise. Julia and her close friend decided to cosplay together asfemale Daleks from Doctor Who. When I attended AVCon as “Allen Schezar” from theanime, The Vision of Escaflowne, my sister decided to accompany me as rival character“Van Fanel”. Choosing complementary characters can allow cosplayers to attend eventstogether performing as a team. If their outfits have similar or matching design elementscosplayers may also join forces in assembly activities, sharing materials and compe-tences. Cosplaying as complementary characters can therefore strengthen the socialbonds between cosplayers or serve to represent existing bonds. In this instance socialmotivations may play a more important role in cosplay choice than personal intentionsor motivations. Peirson-Smith (2013) and Lunning (2010) argue that cosplay can func-tion as an expression of collective identity. However, I would go further to suggest thatcollective identities are achieved through collective creativity. Cross–cultural studiesof the production of artefacts in contexts such as the South Pacific (Giuffre, 2009) andMali (Olesen, 2009) have demonstrated that the creative process is often a social one


with producers influencing and contributing to the production of works. Just as selvescan be objectified in cultural products, so too can relationships between creators bereified co–produced artefacts and performances.

Character choice can be an act of objectification where a cosplayer uses a costume asa deliberate externalisation of self. However, character choice can also, conversely,be an objectification of social relationships between cosplayers. The tensions betweenthe ideas of cosplay as personal expression and social relationship will be revisited ingreater depth in Chapter 5 which explores the dressed cosplay body as a site of ne-gotiation, and Chapter 6 which explores the negotiation of performers’ intentions andaudiences’ interpretations in hallway performances.

4.4 Research

When I decide that there’s a costume that I want to make, or I have anidea what I do is Google. Google is like the costumer’s best friend. Igo through Google, research, find out. If you want to do a straight copyof something from a movie, an anime or a TV show you go through andfind as many images as you can from all the different angles and differentlights of that costume. Then you look at what other people have done.And then you say, this person made it out of cotton. This person made itout of satin. This person has painted it on instead of sewing on differentcoloured panels. This one will be easier. This one will be harder but itlooks better, kind of thing. And then you decide how you’re going to do ityourself. And then you go out and buy the materials and whack it together.


In panels, tutorials and interviews cosplayers would describe the activity of finding im-ages, ‘reference pictures’, and information about the chosen character as the initial stageof cosplay assembly. Research serves a dual purpose: to enable the cosplayer to builda mental model of a complete visual look of the character, assisting them to producean accurate cosplay; and to provide the cosplayer with insights into how that accuratecosplay may be achieved. While panels and online tutorials often take for granted thatresearch will occur before any other cosplay assembly activities, the narratives of as-

4.4. RESEARCH 87

sembly processes of cosplayers indicate that cosplayers may perform research activitiesagain later in the assembly process, for example before beginning a new part of thecostume such as the shoes.

Almost every cosplayer engages in research to a greater or lesser extent. Ben, an experi-enced cosplayer and member of the ACG, reported that much of the five to ten hours hespent per week on costuming activities was devoted to research. As a novice cosplayerassembling his first “Captain Jack” costume, Daniel reported that he did very little re-search. However, after attending his first convention in costume and seeing other more‘accurate’ versions of the “Captain Jack” costume he conducted a considerable amountof online research before assembling a second version.

Cosplayers’ activities during the research stage appear to be centred upon mimicry. Cos-players collect reference pictures and information in the attempt to ensure that their cos-tume recreates an original design, the prototype, as closely and completely as possible.The activity of research is directly associated with the community value of ‘accuracy’,discussed in the previous chapter. In their research activities cosplayers are enactingand reinforcing this value. However, in practice the research phase of the assemblyprocesses also problematises this notion of accuracy. As they commence their researchactivities the question that quickly arises for the beginner cosplayer is, accurate to what,exactly? During the research stage cosplayers are required to redefine and reassem-ble the appearance of the chosen character from an array of pre–existing images of thecharacter. This activity requires problem–solving and creative choices on the part of thecosplayer who must decide how their recreation of the character is going to look. Likethe subjects of Woodward’s (2007b) and Hansen’s (2005) ethnographies who attemptedto create a complete visual look through assembling dress items, in the research stagecosplayers attempt to assemble a complete visual of a particular character through ne-gotiating multiple texts and images. Research activities may be centred upon accuracybut accuracy here is practically negotiated and assembled.

Popular characters chosen by cosplayers may appear in a number of media. For ex-ample, the appearance of characters from the media franchise Trinity Blood, a popularchoice for cosplayers in recent years, differ slightly in the manga, light novels, animeand art books. These differences in adaptation can be for creative reasons or due totechnical limitations such as the difficulties of animating images with an extraordinarylevel of detail. When deciding to assemble a costume based on a particular character the


cosplayer may be faced with an overwhelming array of different visual looks and stylesfor the same character. Cosplayers are limited in their ability to represent the characterin cosplay in that they are creating (typically) one physical outfit. The cosplayer mustmake a choice: do they recreate the manga version, the anime version, or the art bookversion?

In interview mecha suit cosplayer Santhosh described his dilemma when recreating the“Zaku” suit from the Gundam anime/model/videogame franchise:

S: Interestingly, Gundam never had a manga. It was a complete anime atthe start. It was really open to canon. There were a lot of people doing theirown designs and if you look at the Zaku, there were at least ten mobile suitvariations. If you look at one character, Shin Matsunaga, who had a proto-type Zaku which had these thrusters, they’re massive! If you look at CharAznable’s Zaku, in the manga it didn’t have any thrusters on the legs butif you look at the model design there was one done by the official designerand then there was one by the official creator, his version of it. If you no-tice the difference, the official designer had thrusters at the back; the officialcreator didn’t have thrusters at the back but had thrusters on the backpackitself. And you’re like wow, which one do I choose?

C: You have to decide whether you choose to go for one exact reproductionor whether you choose to blend a couple of them?

S: Yeah. And again, if you want to go in the competition, one of thestrengths they look for is originality. How close are you to the originalcharacter? How are you supposed to do that with my costume? It’s a littlebit hard because it’s debatable. (Santhosh, Author’s Interview 2012)

Essentially research poses a conundrum to cosplayers: characters may have many dif-ferent visual looks but for the purposes of assembling a cosplay the cosplayer has tofocus on a single complete visual look.

Cosplayers therefore have to assemble for themselves a model of a complete visual lookfor the character, which they can use as a benchmark for the accuracy of their costume.

4.4. RESEARCH 89

Creative approaches are regularly used by cosplayers in the attempt to address this prob-lem. Some choose to create a costume that combines elements of different versions ofthe character’s visual appearance. Cosplayers may also choose to create multiple cos-tumes based on different versions of the one character. Other cosplayers, particularlyfor the purpose of competitions, even create changing costumes which morph from onelook to the other by losing or gaining parts during performance. At the competition heldat SMASH I witnessed a particularly striking example where a female Penguindrumcosplayer removed parts of her costume in the manner of a burlesque performer. But forother cosplayers the formation of the model may involve choosing a particular mediaversion, for example the anime film depiction, and attempting to only recreate that par-ticular version. Furthermore, some choices may be made on the level of tiny details thedecision to recreate one prop or the other, to use three buttons or four on the cuffs.

A single particular look must be assembled. However, reflecting the value of com-pletism, this look must also be a complete visual look: the character’s appearance infront, back, sides, proportions, details and colours must all be recreated in the costumeif the cosplayer wishes to achieve accuracy. Research activities require cosplayers topractically utilise the cosplay ‘skilled vision’ (Grasseni, 2007) described in Chapter3 as they sift through potentially thousands of digital and material resources includingwebsites, screen shots, art books and even three dimensional toys and models to uncovernew details in the character’s design.

Cosplayers do not perform these activities in social isolation. The quest for an accuratemodel of a character can be a public activity involving discussion and debate of a char-acter’s features. Julia described to me a problem that she was encountering with her“Princess Merrida” costume from Disney’s Brave (2011). From the visual texts she hadgathered for the costume still images, promotional materials she could not tell whetherthe princess’s dress was supposed to be green or blue as it appeared to be greener insome images and bluer in others. She told me she had seen pictures of other cosplayerswho had created the costume and sometimes their costumes seemed too green or tooblue. Julia wanted to recreate the character accurately and did not want to ‘get it wrong’by wearing a wrongly coloured costume to public events. To overcome this dilemmashe told me she had sought other information about the costume in online forum dis-cussions and eventually told me she found ‘official’ confirmation of the dress’s colourin the transcript of an interview with an animator from Pixar. The animator was appar-


Figure 4.2: “Juri” cosplays (Photographs by Patrick Korbel)

4.4. RESEARCH 91

ently asked by a member of the audience what colour the dress was supposed to be andhad replied that the dress was supposed to be blue. Julia told me that she was thereforetreating the dress as blue. Julia’s interpretation of accuracy was not made in isolationbut through consultation with a wider community of practice.

Once the references have been gathered the cosplayer then composites the images anddetails into a model of the character. This model may exist entirely in the imaginationand memory of a cosplayer or more commonly is made manifest by cosplayers storinga digital folder of images, or printing them out for use during the assembly stage:

What I usually do is I’ll have a reference of my character and then I’ll startsketching out my character. You don’t have to be an amazing artist to beable to do this. If you do a rough sketch of the character you’ll see, oh, thisdesign is here and this detail is over there. And then you can start takingpieces away from the design and going, okay, what garment do I have tomake for this? Do I have to make pants? Do my pants have to be attachedto my top? Do I have a shirt that needs to go underneath? All that kind ofthing. You need to discover what aspects of the costume you need to puttogether...’ (Sierra, SMASH Cosplay Panel Author’s Transcript 2012)

This quotation from master cosplayer Sierra traces the transitions at play between thestages of the assembly process as model is first assembled from reference images,sketched by the cosplayer, and then disassembled into component parts which will needto be ‘put together’ materially by the cosplayer in the following stages.

Again, this work is often performed in collaboration or through consultation with otherpractitioners, For example, while creating her “Fluttershy” costume from My LittlePony: Friendship is Magic (Hasbro, 2001) Julia sent me frequent text and Facebookmessages as she attempted to work out how to translate various aspects of the charactermodel into physical objects. She sent me links to various websites that were sellingnecklaces that she wanted the character to wear. We discussed how she was going tomake the character’s wings out of felt and how she was going to achieve a colour matchusing dyes. As items that she had purchased online arrived at her home she would sendme pictures of her wearing the component parts a photograph of herself wearing theplastic ears she had bought. Gradually the separate parts were again considered part ofa whole design.


Figure 4.3: “Fluttershy” (Photograph by Patrick Korbel)

4.5. COLLECTING 93

As these accounts demonstrate even this research stage of cosplay assembly involvesprocesses of objectification as cosplayers create their own, personalised models of char-acter accuracy. Throughout this stage cosplayers practically negotiate the values ofaccuracy and completism to construct their own unique model of the character, in theprocess gaining community–specific skills.

4.5 Collecting

Never underestimate anything as being able to be used in a costume. Even-tually you’ll get to the point where you’ll view anything and everything ascostume parts. (Cassandra, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2012)

C: What are some skills you think a costumer really needs to have?

J: Shopping! [laughs] (Julia, Author’s Interview 2012)

Once the character model has been assembled cosplayers will then go about gatheringmaterials and techniques to use in the construction of their character recreation. Know-ing how to shop, scavenge and borrow are key competences for this stage. Studiesof consumption practices have identified shopping as a skilled activity with differentskills and aims for different fields be it bargain hunting or shopping to display culturalor economic status or to demonstrate appreciation of subcultural authenticity (Jacksonet al., 2005; Clarke, 1998). Shopping can provide a key context for the production ofobjectifications (Jackson et al., 2005; Hansen, 2005; Clarke, 1998)). As with assem-blages in the Western art world, cosplay costumes are assembled from ‘found objects’.The finding of these objects is an activity requiring time, effort and skill on the part ofthe cosplayer, and importantly a knowledge of sites (physical and digital) to search foritems and a knowledge of how to evaluate items for their cosplay potential. In this way,through shopping, cosplayers come to develop strong relationships with their materialsand learn to internalise cosplay aesthetics.

Knowing where to shop can be particularly important for cosplayers as the materialsthey are looking for can sometimes be quite specialised and difficult to find. This canbe the case with craft materials such as liquid latex for making prosthetics or thermal


plastics such as Wonderflex for building props, or also with pre–made specialty itemslike Victorian pocket–watches or officially licensed accessories such as character rings,brooches or badges. At other times knowing where to shop can be about knowing whichkind of local, ‘everyday’ store is going to stock items with cosplay potential whichSalvation Army outlet stocks a wider range of men’s clothes, which fabric stores havethe greatest range and value, or even which suburbs have the best items left out for hardrubbish collection.

A clear illustration of the skills and knowledge involved in material collection and theobjectification processes at work in these consumption activities is evident in an analysisof wig shopping. Wigs, an item not usually worn by cosplayers in their non–cosplayinglives, are commonly used to replicate the hair colour and style of the chosen character.Novice cosplayers must learn where to purchase wigs. Wigs can be purchased at localcostume stores, discount stores or local wig specialty stores or through online stores.This specialised knowledge is often disseminated among cosplayers at panels, in onlinetutorials and in casual conversations.

However, knowing how to correctly buy a wig regularly involved more than knowing thename of a retailer or online store. Keller (2001) has highlighted that the selection of ma-terials poses challenges for artisans as there is always a risk that a material may be faultyor inappropriate and may damage the whole. A thorough understanding of the proper-ties of materials and the ability to determine their appropriateness for projects are thehallmarks of an experienced practitioner Keller (2001). In the case of wigs, experiencedcosplayers emphasised that wigs could vary in materials, quality, price and appropriate-ness for cosplay. Cosplayers spoke of three different kinds of wigs: party wigs madefrom low quality synthetic fibres, usually costing under AU$30; synthetic cosplay wigsmade from higher quality, often heat–resistant, fibres, costing between AU$30 and 80;and human hair wigs, able to be styled using the same tools, often costing over AU$100.Party wigs were often denigrated by practitioners as being inappropriate for cosplay astheir cuts and weaves were poor and the appearance of the cheaper fibres would seemtoo shiny in photographs.

Stories of wig purchasing that were recounted to me during field work reveal how theOn one occasion Julia accidentally purchased a party wig online. Upon discovering hermistake she posted to her cosplaying friends on Facebook, asking if there was any wayto dull the shine. To achieve the look she wanted Julia had to purchase an alternative

4.6. MESS 95

wig from another online store. Alternatively, purchasing a higher quality wig at thewrong store could lead to a cosplayer being ‘ripped off’. Once, eager to avoid makingthe ‘mistake’ of purchasing a cheap wig I bought a more expensive, heat resistant wig,not realising that the high level of heat resistance in the fibres would make it extremelydifficult for me to style the wig into the curls that I desired.

4.6 Mess

Whenever you come over to my house there’re always pins in the floor,there’re always spare threads everywhere. I’ve always got threads all overmy clothes, glue under my nails. As you can see I’ve still got paint fromlast night on my fingers. It’s a messy business. There’s no way of do-ing it and keeping stuff clean. It’s creative mess, though.


I have termed the third stage of the cosplay assembly process mess. This tactile, materials-focused activity whereby objects are broken down, shaped and transformed throughthe techniques of the cosplayer, regularly involves everyday understandings of mess.As in Renee’s quote above, in this stage of assembly the borders between materialsand cosplayers’ bodies are often fluid. Cosplayers describing their assembly processeswould regularly relate incidents of cutting themselves with blades, suffering burns oreven putting their long term health at risk by inhaling fibreglass particles when workingwithout a respirator. In a painful accident I managed to get Superglue over my ear, hairand the side of my face. Hands and bodies of cosplayers leave impressions all over thematerials. Julia, explaining the construction of her “Vampire Willow” corset, describedhow she had to get a friend to wrap her T–shirted torso in duct tape to create a formof her own body for her to work on. Of the finished garment she said, ‘traces of manypeople’s blood were left on the corset.’

Mess is the crucible stage of the cosplay assembly process. Materials are transformedby cosplayers’ bodies and cosplayers’ bodies are transformed through working with thematerials. The act of creating artefacts is an act of self–creation (Miller, 1987; Malko-georgou, 2011). Material culture authors have emphasised that practitioners developstrong relationships with objects that they have created by hand (Hoskins, 1998; Dobres,


Figure 4.4: Wig

4.6. MESS 97

2001; O’Connor, 2005; Malkogeorgou, 2011). Drawing on Bourdieu’s (1990) notion of‘habitus’, O’Connor (2005) argues that through working with materials craft practition-ers literally inscribe skills and craft knowledge upon their bodies. In the mess stagethe self–creation aspect of objectification is practical and embodied as through work-ing with materials cosplayers physically acquire new skills. A common sentiment inthe cosplay community that cosplayers learn skills by ‘doing it themselves’, by playingwith materials until they get it right.

You don’t need to have a ton of experience when you start making a cos-tume; you sort of build up your experience as you go. As long as you’vegot enthusiasm for the project, if you really, really want it, that will driveyou to learn new techniques and try out new techniques and materials.

(Darren, ACG Panel Author’s Transcript 2012)

It is perhaps no surprise then that it is a cosplayer’s ability to perform in the messstage of cosplay assembly that is the most crucial to the cosplayer being judged ascompetent. The guidelines of many cosplay competitions state that only costumes thathave been constructed or made predominantly by the cosplayer – where the materialshave been altered and shaped by the cosplayer’s own hands and tools are eligible forentry into workmanship categories or even the competition itself. Costumes assembledfrom predominantly premade garments and accessories, which typically involve onlya few of the transformative activities described in the mess stage, are therefore barredfrom recognition in these contestations of prestige.

The mess stage also involves processes of assemblage. Activities revolve around thetransformation of the assembled materials the cloth, plastic, cardboard, beads, glue, orthread into a ‘complete’ costume or costume part. Physically, this activity typicallyinvolves the materials being broken down or altered in some way before being recon-stituted in a different form. This truly is the (re)creation phase of the practice. In thecase of sewing this is evident in the cutting of pre–existing fabric into pieces (whichviewed separately have little visual resemblance to the finished garment) which are thenrefashioned into the shape of the garment using a sewing machine, hand stitching oreven hot glue. Clays, thermal plastics and fabrics, and wig fibres are re–shaped andfixed through the use of deliberate temperature changes. Papier–mache involves a sim-ilar process whereby paper is cut into shreds, moistened into pulp, sculpted and shapedby hands or tools and then fixed by either being left to dry or baked in an oven or kiln.


Figure 4.5: Construction

Advanced techniques such as vacuum forming or other moulding and casting processesrequire materials to undergo multiple changes of form and even substance as sculpturescreated in plasticine are used to make casts for silicon moulds which will then be usedto cast the final part in yet another plastic. Even painting and varnishing can be seen tofit this pattern of deformation to reformation as paint, applied as a liquid, will then dryas solid transforming the object’s visual and textural appearance.

The competences required in this stage are focused upon the transforming of the mate-rials into a form that will mimic the shape, colour, comparable size and texture of thecharacter’s appearance or outfit. To do this successfully, cosplayers must have both agood understanding of the particular physical properties of the materials they are work-ing with as well as the embodied knowledge of the skills needed to shape these materi-als. For example, for the construction of her “Merrida” costume I gave Julia some sparebrown vinyl a material she had not worked with before. One week I received as seriesof text and Facebook messages from Julia asking about the fabric, could it be sewn onthe machine? What sort of paint would work on it? In creating the accessory for her

4.6. MESS 99

costume Julia had to simultaneously understand the vinyl as both a physical object, afabric with a set of particular properties and potentials, and as a future costume part, aquiver for prop arrows.

Cosplayers working with materials in this stage may shift their perception of the mean-ings of the objects between recognising the object as a ‘craft material’ with particularphysical and chemical properties, and the object as a potential cosplay item. Foam, fab-ric, interfacing, glue and thread need to appear to the wearer and the audience as a shoe.The cosplayer’s ability to achieve this transformation successfully will, in part, dependon his or her embodied level of competency in particular transformation techniquessewing, sculpting, moulding and casting, painting or his and her ability to access thecompetences of others within cosplay networks getting advice or training from masters,obtaining assistance from friends or commissioning parts.

Even in this very practical phase of assembly cosplayers are engaged in creative ne-gotiation. As previous studies (Mall, 2007; Nakamura, 2007) have demonstrated, thepractice of craft techniques, rather than being a mere mechanised repetition of learntmovements can in fact require and inspire creativity on the part of the technician. Mall(2007) has further argued that this comes about in part due the properties of the materialsthe craftspeople are working with they will not always do as they are told. For cosplay-ers, the task of shaping the assembled materials into the required form can sometimesbe a struggle. Santhosh described to me his feelings of frustration as he could not al-ways get the cardboard shaped in a way that would mimic the legs of the “Zaku”. In thecase of the “Zaku”, as often happens during cosplay construction, the materials chosencannot be shaped using the techniques or tools originally used by the cosplayer so newstrategies must be devised, changes or compromises made.

Sometimes it is the competency level of the cosplayer which causes the problem. As aninexperienced sewer I felt frequently frustrated by the inability to sew the garments in away that would perfectly fit my body. It has only been through ongoing learning throughexperimentation and instruction from others that I am now able to shape garments in theway that I desire.


4.7 Testing

Testing is the fourth stage of the cosplay assembly practice. It is not necessarily the ‘fi-nal’ stage in the process as testing may also occur throughout the duration of costume’sconstruction, often taking place, for example, after the completion of a particular cos-tume part such as a jacket or shoes. However, testing activities can only be performedby the cosplayer after they have engaged in some level of research, assemblage andmess activities. Testing also occurs before presenting the costume to a wider, publicaudience, before the work of the cosplayer is thrust out into cosplay networks. In rela-tion to dress, Hansen (2005, p.114–115) has argued that individuals rehearse clothingcombinations to anticipate how they will be viewed by others. She argues that this canbe considered a form of experimentation as the full impact of dress on others cannotalways be accurately predicted until it is worn and shown to an audience (Hansen, 2005,p.17). Testing is a similarly experimental activity where a created object is evaluated bythe practitioner and others against community aesthetic standards.

Essentially, testing is an activity whereby cosplayers compare their assembled costumeor costume part to their model of the character’s visual appearance and evaluate thecostume for its accuracy and wearability. Keller (2001) has argued that craft processesrequire the practitioner to perform ongoing checks of the object in production to ensurethat its features match an ideal standard. The wearability (or portability, in the caseof props) of costume items becomes an especially important attribute here because anassembled costume can be amazingly accurate but is rendered meaningless if the cos-player cannot wear the costume on their body. Furthermore, a costume that does not fitproperly on a cosplayer’s body may not look as accurate for while the cosplayer mayhave recreated a character’s outfit with a perfect colour match down to the last button, ifthe garment does not hang or sit correctly on the cosplayer’s body the shape and drapeof the garment will not be accurate. For these reasons testing activities often involvethe cosplayer ‘trying on’ parts of their costumes, seeing how the fashioned items workwhen assembled with their own bodies.

Skilled cosplay vision is a key competency again in the testing stage. Here the cos-player must be able to visually evaluate their costume part in terms of its resemblanceto the character model, ‘Does it look right?’ Cosplayers attempt to envisage their cos-tume through the eyes of potential audiences cosplayers and non–cosplayers, friends

4.7. TESTING 101

and rivals. Some will even photograph items of their costume to check that the coloursthey have chosen appear ‘accurate’ in the eyes of the camera as well as to the nakedhuman eye. For the part to appear as ‘accurate’ it must look like a shoe or a sword or adress rather than an assembly of its component parts foam, thread, material, fibreglass.The assembled materials must present the outward appearance of a complete whole andprocesses of transformation undertaken during the mess stage must be complete. Agolden halo must not reveal the beer poster cardboard it is created from. The originalmaterial nature of monstrous demon horns constructed from toilet rolls and foam mustnot be evident to audiences. The aim is for audiences to read the cosplay costume asthe character not the as the creative processes of the cosplayer. The cosplayer’s creativechoices of materials and their skills in shaping those materials are deliberately obscured.On the surface the cosplay costume should appear to be a copy of the character model.The efforts, skills and creative choices of the cosplayer that were utilised during the as-sembly process are only unravelled and displayed in particular contexts such as cosplaycompetitions (to be discussed later in Chapter 7).

In conversations with experienced, competitive cosplayers, the idea of the differencebetween the outside and the inside of costumes would often be mentioned:

I always have this theory: my motto with costuming is it’s all about what’son the outside. I don’t care what’s on the inside. If it looks terrible on theinside, whatever, I don’t care. It’s what’s on the outside that’s important.

(Ben, Author’s Interview 2012)

For experienced cosplayers if the insides of their costumes show the processes of (re)creationwith unlined garments, unravelling stitches and lines of glue, this is perfectly acceptableas long as the outward appearance is accurate and does not show evidence of processes.These experienced cosplayers have learnt not to waste their time and effort on finishingaspects of the garment that will not be seen by audiences.

Like other stages of cosplay assembly testing, is a social activity requiring the cosplayerto envisage how their creation will be perceived by others. Testing can be carried outby the cosplayer alone or with the assistance of other friends and cosplayers who mayprovide further criticism as in the case of Santhosh and his “Zaku” mobile suit cos-


play:

Things like my Zaku, you can actually pick a lot of errors if you’re a reallybig fan of the Zaku. I had a few friends and I was showing them the Zakuand they were like, that Zaku’s thin! (Santhosh, Author’s Interview 2012)

Providing comments and analysis of other people’s costumes can be an activity requiringsome tactical negotiations. Cosplayers often express the desire to want to help othercosplayers make their costumes better and more accurate. However, there is also afear that negative evaluations may upset the cosplayer who may feel it as an attack ontheir work, skills and efforts. Santhosh here describes one such dilemma experiencedby his friend Pontip, a prize–winning master armour builder, when commenting onphotographs from a recent convention event:

He was looking back on all the pictures of Manifest and he saw one thatdid the Halo costume and he was trying not to be a, forgive my language,be a prick to them and say, ‘You missed that one part!’ His pauldron waswrong! This side of the arm, not that side! [...] he stopped himself fromsaying that because he realised he [the other guy] had put a lot of effort intoit. (Santhosh, Author’s Interview 2012)

Often cosplaying friends will try to give comments and assistance in the testing stageas a means of helping avert the risk of the cosplayer receiving negative feedback fromgatekeepers in the community when the cosplayer displays their finished work in pub-lic contexts such as events or as a photograph displayed online. Anxieties that one’swork and therefore one’s skills and knowledge as a cosplayer may be negatively evalu-ated by members of wider cosplay networks are an undercurrent present in the testingstage.

If a costume or costume part fails to accurately recreate the character model, what then?The cosplayer can make one of two choices. They can choose to accept and wear aninaccurate or ill–fitting costume if time pressures are too great or they are focusing onother cosplay activities such as performing, photographing other cosplayers or simplyhanging out with others; or they can choose to reshape the existing part or replace orrecreate it. For many dedicated cosplayers the choice will be the second option. Whenthe materials or techniques chosen, or the skill level of the cosplayer in shaping thosematerials fail to create the proper effect the cosplayer will be forced to retrace their steps

4.8. CONCLUSION: OBJECTIFICATIONS, CREATIVITY AND PRACTICE 103

in the assembly process and recreate their recreation once more.

In the testing stage the costume object is prepared for a community of practice. Thepractitioner here must decide if the object(s) he or she has created objectifies variousqualities valued by the community. Is the object accurate? Is it complete? Would itsfaults be recognised by an audience? In many instances the testing stage actually in-volves presenting the object to other trusted practitioners for specific evaluation. Theanxiety experienced by some cosplayers during this stage is evidence of the close, per-sonalised relationship that develops between practitioners and assembled costumes. Ajudgement of the costume object can be simultaneously a judgement of the cosplayer,their choices, competences and efforts.

4.8 Conclusion: Objectifications, Creativity and Prac-tice

Cosplay has been dismissed and derided by mainstream media sources within Australia.At the heart of some of these criticisms is the idea that cosplayer’s efforts are essentiallypointless. Cosplayer creations merely copy a pre–existing design and are therefore de-void of creativity and unworthy of the prestige attributed to ‘original’ works. Throughan exploration of the cosplay assembly process I have demonstrated that cosplayers’copying activities are highly complex and creative. Echoing the findings of ethno-graphic studies of copying practices in a variety of cultural contexts (Hallam and Ingold,2007; Cox, 2007), I have demonstrated that cosplayers’ copying involves considerableknowledge and skill and requires the cosplayer to make ongoing creative choices andnegotiations of aesthetics and values.

Cosplayers’ assembly processes produce more than costume objects. Costume assem-bly processes are processes of objectification. As cosplayers stitch cloth, style wigs andmould thermal plastic they form personalised relationships with costume items. Thesevery processes not only enable a costumer to assembly a costume but allow cosplayersto create themselves. In the assembly process cosplayers acquire skills and knowledge,forge relationships with other practitioners and negotiate their practices within a com-munity of practice. Even the cosplayer who buys most of her costume’s component parts


online has still completed a process of choosing a character, researching that character,sourcing the items and combining them in a personalised manner. The activities of se-lecting and purchasing clothing have been identified as skilled activities (Clarke, 1998;Hansen, 2005; Woodward, 2007b). Through assembling a ‘bought cosplay’ cosplayerhas still acquired skills and knowledge in identifying suitable characters for performanceand locating appropriate stores and items. These skills are extended or reinforced witheach new costume that a cosplayer attempts.

The assembly of cosplay objects also involves the creation and reproduction of socialrelations. Costumes are not assembled by sole practitioners working in isolation but in-stead are always the product of ongoing negotiations between practitioners and a broadercommunity of practice. Community–specific skills and values are shared, reinforced orcontested. In choosing and planning a character to perform, and in selecting, trans-forming and testing materials, cosplayers must actively interpret and objectify values ofaccuracy, completism, spectacle and amateurism.

Chapter 5

Looking Right, Feeling Pain: TheCostumed Body and the Negotiation ofCosplay Values

At Adelaide’s Oz Comic–Con in March 2012 the local chapter of the Australian Cos-tumers’ Guild ran a booth promoting their organisation. Staffed by two costumed guildmembers who chatted to the convention attendees passing by, the booth was decoratedwith photographs of guild members in costume and also featured a small display of cos-tumes created by guild members. The costumes were arrayed on an assorted collectionof mannequins and dress forms, some more human–like than others. Pinned to eachcostume was a small certificate that detailed the name of the character, the film, gameor television programme from which the character had originated, and the name of thecostumer(s) who had ‘recreated’ the character.

Viewing the costumes in the display was an interesting experience. Convention atten-dees could get very close to the costumes. Their proximity and stillness allowed me toobserve details which I otherwise would not have noticed such as the extremely detailedembroidery on the bodice of the “White Queen’s” dress.

However, presented out of context, on mannequins rather than human bodies, the cos-tumes looked somewhat odd. On the dress form the elegant sleeves of the “WhiteQueen” gown fell limply to its sides. The dress form was also missing a head so the

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106 CHAPTER 5. LOOKING RIGHT, FEELING PAIN

Figure 5.1: “White Queen”

107

wig was placed awkwardly on the headless neck. Though I was familiar with the filmI did not recognise the costume as the “White Queen” until I read the accompanyingcertificate.

Providing a contrast to the static costumes on display, a fully dressed “Master Chief”(from the Halo videogame series) cosplayer and guild member was hanging aboutnearby.

In the photograph depicted in Figure 5.2, the cosplayer’s face and gender are completelyobscured. If not for the dynamism of his pose one could believe that he was anothermannequin. However, as observed by convention attendees, this inhuman figure was infact a costume worn by a person who could move, walk, pose, and chat in a muffledvoice. His moving, transformed costumed body was a source of excitement for manyconvention attendees who would often exclaim out loud on seeing his costume andquickly reach for their cameras.

Entwistle (2000, p.10) describes dress as ‘embodied practice’. The meanings, uses, andpotential effects of clothing are transformed when worn upon the body. For costumesto ‘look right’ they need to be inhabited by the body of the cosplayer filling them outand bringing them to life, lest they hang limp, immobile and unrecognisable like thecostumes on the static display. Cosplay costumes are not sculptures and are assembledfor the purpose of being worn.

To be a cosplayer is to wear cosplay costumes. Many people may be involved in theassembly of costumes who do not wear costumes themselves: family members, friends,craft or sewing teachers, or craft retail assistants. These people, while playing essentialroles in cosplay communities, would not usually be considered cosplayers. In contrastto practices common in western fashion and professional theatrical performance wherea performer or model may wear a costume designed and constructed almost exclusivelyby others, in cosplay the costumer is usually heavily involved in both the productionand consumption of the costume they both assemble and wear the costume.

Cosplay is an assemblage of both craft and embodied performance. Bodies are themeans by which material objects are connected and enlivened during performance (Mitchell,2009, p.385). An exploration of how the craft aspects of cosplay are connected to itsperformance aspects requires an examination of how bodies are experienced and under-stood within communities of practice.


Figure 5.2: “Master Chief”

109

To explore the crucial role of bodies in cosplay this chapter examines a key debatewhich is enacted throughout Australian cosplay communities. This debate is centredupon the question of to what extent a cosplayer can and should transform their bodyin order to achieve an accurate cosplay performance. As cosplayers enact this debatein a variety of contexts including dressing activities, panel performances, competitionnarratives, and blog posts, they negotiate key community values and define the natureof the practice.

Pre–existing accounts of the body in practice tend to focus on the long–term changesand structuration wrought upon the body by the constant repetition of embodied ac-tivities (Bourdieu, 1990; O’Connor, 2005; Marchand, 2010). However, within cosplaydress practice the most important ‘technique of the body’ (Mauss, 1973) is the abil-ity to perform a variety of temporary body transformations. For this reason, unlikemany other practices found in sporting, performing or craft fields, the embodied prac-tice of cosplay is not strongly focused on the repeated performance of a restricted set ofpractice–specific techniques.

In the absence of a more defined repertoire of bodily techniques, the role of the bodyin cosplay tends to be characterised by an ongoing debate between practitioners: thosewho believe that cosplayers should take extensive measures to ensure that their bodiesvisually resemble their chosen characters, and those who believe that bodily accuracyis impractical or unnecessary and that alternative values such as amateurism and self–expression are as important as accuracy.

Recent material culture literature has emphasised embodied dress as a potential site ofnegotiation of community–specific aesthetic and ethical values (Banerjee and Miller,2003; Hansen, 2005; Woodward, 2007b; Wiley, 2013). Dress practices become a meansby which individuals and the wider community negotiate particular contradictory val-ues. Social values are put into action by the dress choices of individuals (Entwistle,2000; Wiley, 2013). In choosing whether to alter their own bodies for performancescosplayers negotiate the values of the practice. Dressing activities themselves are po-tent social actions but dress and clothing can also be the subject of wider commentaryand debate within communities (Lentz, 1995). Negotiations over the role of the dressedbody in cosplay are expanded further into other aspects of the practice through cos-players’ discussions of this issue in competition narratives and online conversations. Inthese practical negotiations cosplayers both reproduce and challenge pre–existing cos-


play concepts of the body.

5.1 Bodies in Practice

Discussions of bodies in practice frequently draw on Bourdieu’s (1990) notion of habi-tus to explore how community values are inscribed as dispositions on practitioners’bodies. Through ongoing, repetitive performance of particular techniques practitionerssuch as dancers (Aaltern, 1997; Turner and Wainwright, 2003), sportspersons (Spencer,2009), professionals (Rice, 2010), and craftspeople (O’Connor, 2005; Marchand, 2010)acquire practice–specific embodied knowledge. In learning how to dance, fight or blowglass according to specific practice–community standards, practitioners are re–enactingthe values and standards of that practice (Aaltern, 1997; O’Connor, 2005; Spencer,2009).

These processes are not so clearly evident in the practice of cosplay. Unlike manyof the fields explored by the aforementioned ethnographies of practice, cosplay is notcentred upon a restrictive set of techniques in either its craft or performance aspects. Asdescribed in Chapter 4, myriad techniques are available to the cosplayer assembling acostume. Likewise, in competition and hallway contexts many forms of performancetechniques are acceptable, including mime, dance, singing and acrobatics.

Numerous critics of Bourdieu’s habitus have argued that the model is too inflexible andcannot account for heterogenous practice (Sewell, 1992; King, 2000; Warde, 2005). Theexplanatory power of the ‘habitus’ appears to be strongest when it is applied to fieldswhere one set of bodily techniques dominates, relatively uncontested, for an extendedperiod of time. The model does not easily fit with cosplay’s extremely broad range ofbodily techniques and the practice’s emphasis on constant change.

Whether Bourdieu actually intended habitus to be interpreted as so prescriptive is de-bateable (Sweetman, 2003). However, practice–centred approaches to technique andthe body often associate the concept of habitus with a strong emphasis on structur-ing and reproduction. Using a concept of the habitus, some ethnographies of practicesdepict a strong relationship between community values, practitioner identities and par-ticular body of techniques which can be regularly rehearsed and replicated (Rice, 2010;

5.1. BODIES IN PRACTICE 111

O’Connor, 2005; Aaltern, 2005). Specific practitioner identities such as ‘doctor’ (Rice,2010) or ‘ballet dancer’ (Aaltern, 2005) are intimately tied to the acquisition and enact-ment of particular embodied skills and knowledges. How then are embodied practitioneridentities formed and maintained in practices like cosplay which embrace a varied andchangeable range of physical techniques?

The role of the body in cosplay is not defined by one set of physical techniques; it isinstead characterised by an ongoing community–specific debate. In contrast to prac-tice literature which tends to emphasise relatively tight and stable relationships betweenbody practices, community values and identities, recent dress literature has argued thatdressed bodies can be sites of negotiation (Lentz, 1995; Durham, 1999; Woodward,2007b). Durham (1999, p.390) argues that dress is ‘polyvalent’; it is imbued with nu-merous meanings and can be open to a range of interpretations. Through performingdress practices both individuals and communities are able to re–enact or contest aes-thetic and community values, and develop individual and social identities (Durham,1999; Wiley, 2013; Woodward, 2007b).

Debates over bodily aesthetics and dress practices can be closely linked to debates overmoral or ethical community values (Durham, 1999; Banerjee and Miller, 2003; Sandikciand Ger, 2005). The clothing choices of an individual can provide a means of practicallynegotiating conflicting values, between tradition and modernity, community expecta-tions and individualism or between an individual’s multiple roles or identities (Banerjeeand Miller, 2003; Sandikci and Ger, 2005; Woodward, 2007b; Wiley, 2013).

In choosing whether or not to alter their bodies for cosplay performances, cosplayerscontest various community values including accuracy, amateurism and creativity. Theintentions of the cosplayer are matched against the limitations of their bodies. Thesenegotiations are enacted in numerous contexts throughout the practice: in texts, in socialdressing activities, in body projects, in panels and competitions, on public blogs.

As cosplayers debate the role of the body in cosplay through participating in body trans-formation and storytelling activities they simultaneously debate and recreate the mean-ing of cosplay as a practice. Cosplayers enact their conceptions of the body in practice,practitioners teach and learn various ways of viewing the body, and members of thecommunity align themselves to specific sides of the debate, forming sub–groups andengaging in gate–keeping. Debates about the nature of the body in cosplay are not only


reflexive of the practice but generative.

5.2 Monstrous Bodies and Bodies as Tools

Before describing cosplayers’ body transformation activities I will first provide an ex-amination of the idea of body transformation as it is represented in the texts read,viewed, played and used by cosplayers and which provide the source material for theircostumes. I would in no way imply that these representations directly influence the waysthat cosplayers understand their own bodies but I would argue that these representationsare significant. The body, as an entity that is capable of physical transformations, isa recurrent and important trope of many cosplay source texts and these images of hy-bridised, transformed or transforming bodies are visually recreated by cosplayers intheir costume objects and performances.

Examples of body transformations, events where characters undergo significant changesto their physical appearance either in the form of changes to their dress or to their bod-ies, are remarkably prevalent in all the text types that are frequently used by cosplayers:anime, manga, western comics, science fiction and fantasy films and videogames. In-deed amorphous, transforming bodies have been identified as a key trope of speculativefiction texts (Schaub, 2001; Weltzien, 2005). The notion of the transforming superhero,epitomised perhaps by the geekish, bespectacled “Clark Kent’s” swift metamorphosesinto the brightly–costumed “Superman”, is a staple trope of Western comics (Weltzien,2005).

Cosplayers even perform recreations of these transformation sequences in contexts suchas competition skits. These performed transformations are achieved in a number of waysby removing parts of their costume or by adding additional items such as wings, or evensimultaneously representing two forms of the character onstage as the winners of the2011 Madman National championship did by representing the character “Amaterasu”from Capcom’s (2006) videogame Okami, in her wolf shape in the form of a puppet andin human shape by a costumed cosplayer.

Representations of body transformation in source texts can be roughly divided into rep-resentations that portray the transformed body as an object or tool and those that portray

5.2. MONSTROUS BODIES AND BODIES AS TOOLS 113

it as an uncontrollable force, independent of the self. In the first representation thecharacter is able to control the transformation of their body the character chooses totransform, often as a means of gaining increased physical or magical powers which willin turn allow them to achieve a task. This depiction is common in Western superherocomics such as Batman, Superman and Spiderman (Weltzien, 2005), in shonen fightingseries such as Bleach (Kubo 2001) where the protagonist “Ichigo Kurosaki” is able toadopt increasingly stronger supernatural/physical forms as a means of defeating oppo-nents, and mecha series where pilot characters enter or merge with empowered robotbodies which allow them to engage opponents they could never hope to defeat in theirnormal human bodies.

In all these instances body transformation in these texts is represented as being con-trolled by the will of the character, empowering them in a moment of need. Thesetransformed bodies are tools, frequently weapons,1 to be used for specific, predefinedpurposes. The character’s skill in transforming and controlling that transformation of-ten gains them prestige or allows them to enter into a community of other transformingcharacters mecha pilots, fellow superheroes, ninja clans.

In contrast to this empowering depiction of body transformation are representations oftransformation that portray bodies as things that structure and control a character’s emo-tions, behaviour and narrative journey. In these representations the characters’ bodiestransform themselves, without the character’s will or consent. The character’s body isacting independently from the character’s conscious mind or is reacting to aspect of thecharacter’s mind that he or she cannot control such as subconscious or emotional states.The character’s reaction to this uncontrolled transformation is often highly negative –fear, anger, annoyance, frustration – and may be played for humour, as in the case ofpoor “Ranma” of the manga Ranma 1/2 who changes gender when doused with water ofdifferent temperatures, or horror as in the case of the hideous visceral transformationsundergone by the character “Tetsuo” in the anime Akira (Napier, 2005).

In many popular cosplay source genres uncontrolled body transformations are portrayedas monstrous. Many of these transformations are inspired by pre–existing folklore andmythological traditions such the werewolf or the vampire. Characters who cannot con-

1In the case of the manga Soul Eater (Okubo 2004) this transformation is completely literal as human–like characters physically transform into recognizable weapons – guns, scythes, etc. – to be used as suchby other characters.


trol their transformations are usually unable to consciously use their transformed bodiesas tools, and in fact their bodies may be used by other forces or agents without theirconsent as in the case of representations of demonic possession.

Parallels can be drawn between the representations of transforming bodies in cosplaysource texts and ideas about the role of bodies within cosplay communities of practice.Popular culture representations of the magically transformed body operating as a toolseem to echo the cosplay idea that the performing body can be viewed as a materialobject which can be shaped to achieve the cosplayer’s aims. Concepts of the bodyas an uncontrollable force can be also found in cosplay counter discourses that arguethat the body cannot always be worked on like an object, flesh resists moulding. Bothrepresentations, however, share a common dualist notion of a separation between bodyand mind/self.

Another parallel between the representations of transforming bodies in source texts andbody transformation in cosplay practice is the transience of these transformations. Likecharacters in the texts that they watch, read and play, cosplayers transform their bodiesfrom modes of presentation they adopt in their ‘everyday’ lives to spectacular costumedforms. Parallels between transforming superheroes and transforming cosplayers haveeven been identified by mainstream media articles such as ‘We Can Be Heroes Justfor Two Days’ (Sunday Mail 25/3/2012). Body transformations for superheroes andcosplayers alike are typically transient, lasting only for the period of an event. As cos-players often vary the costumes they wear from event to event the nature of their bodytransformation activities and the skills used to effect these transformations may differon each occasion.

The temporary changes of the cosplayer contrast with the longer–term changes to thephysique emphasised in much practice literature. In contrast to ballet, football or pot-tery, in the performance of cosplay costumes it is the ability to transform one’s bodyfor a short period of time which is important. A skilled cosplayer can adopt the dressand deportment of a queen for one event and that of a robot for another. The variety ofcostumes worn by members of the community entail that there is no one set of ‘tech-niques of the body’ (Mauss, 1973). The bodily characteristic that matters in cosplay ischangeability. The element of routinisation and repetition which is typically viewed asfundamental to the development of embodied practitioner identities is therefore largelyabsent in cosplay.


The body transformations enacted by cosplayers for performances are largely tran-sient but are also highly varied. Again contrasting with more typified descriptions ofbodies commonly found in other practice literature, cosplay body transformation pro-cesses may take many forms, influenced largely by the appearance of the chosen char-acter.

[...] This is one of the things they don’t tell you about cosplay. Sometimesyou’ll end up working really hard to change how your body looks. Oneperson gives up miso soup, one person makes a truly epic amount of armour;it’s incredible. (Host, MNCC Final 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

Broadly, there are several different ways that cosplayers transform their bodies for cos-play performances. Cosplayers encase or hide their bodies, obscuring them inside lay-ers of clothing or costumes made of thick or heavy materials. Cosplayers may wearmasks that obscure the face or encase the entire head. Costume parts may also encaseor constrict particular parts of the body, corsetry being one popular example where the‘everyday’ shape of a woman’s, or indeed a man’s chest, stomach, breasts and hips arephysically moulded into an hourglass shape by the garment.

Instead of encasing their bodies cosplayers actually expose and display them as partof their costume. This may involve cosplayers uncovering body parts such as thighs,breasts or topless chests in imitation of the ‘skimpy’ outfits worn by characters in thechosen source texts, or even occasionally partial nudity as in the case of a cosplayerperforming “Doctor Manhattan”, from the Watchmen comics (Moore, 1986) at AVCon,whose visually accurate costume consisted of the cosplayer’s shaved, muscled body anda pair of underpants, both painted blue. Cosplayers may also reveal their bodies whiletechnically being clothed from neck to ankle. Tight–fitting spandex outfits, full body‘zentai suits’ or Morphsuits (most commonly worn by male cosplayers) may display, inconsiderable detail, the definitions of the cosplayer’s naked form covered only by a thinlayer of fabric.

Cosplayers may use dress to make their bodies or general physical presence larger or atleast appear larger to their audience. This may happen on a biological level in practicessuch as muscle building or ‘bulking up for cosplay’ or may be achieved through theuse of costume parts. Armour suit cosplays may, for example, give the appearance ofadding considerable bulk and presence to the cosplayer’s body.


Figure 5.3: Cat Head


Figure 5.4: “Jack Skellington”


Cosplayers also often change the colour of their bodies as part of their cosplay dress.The outfits and appearances of anime and videogame characters are often brightly orstrikingly coloured and cosplay costumes based on these designs are likewise eye–catchingly bright, reflected in convention halls which often appear as a seething pageantof carnivalesque fluoro pinks, neon yellows, blood reds and dazzling gold. While theirgarments may be more brightly coloured than their everyday wear, cosplayers may alsochoose to change the colour of their skin, eyes and hair. Changes to skin colour may beeffected through the use of tanning products, body paint, cosmetic make–up, or tempo-rary tattoos.

Cosplay bodies may also be augmented with the addition of non–human extensions, ad-ditional ‘body parts’ that are attached to the cosplayer’s own. Interestingly, derived fromtheir source designs, these non–human body augmentations are typically animalistic ormachine – like in nature.

While all cosplayers enact some form of body transformation for performance, thetype of transformation and extent to which it is enacted can vary considerably betweencosplayers. In the sections below I will describe how, in choosing to perform sometransformation activities and not others, cosplayers position themselves in relation toa community–wide debate. In engaging in some activities cosplayers enact the ideathat the cosplayer body is an object that should be extensively transformed for the sakeof accuracy in performance. This idea is also actively taught in performative and socialcontexts. Alternatively, by refusing to participate in some body transformation activitiesother cosplayers challenge or negotiate the dominant discourse and promote alternativeconcepts of the role of the body in the practice.

5.3 Body as Object in Body Projects

Having broadly described some of the types of body transformation activities practisedby cosplayers, in the next section I will examine the view of the relationship between thebody of the cosplayer and cosplay, which characterises the cosplayer’s body as anotherobject or material, like Styrofoam, cardboard or cloth, that can and should be mouldedand shaped by the cosplayer in the pursuit of accurately recreating the visual look ofa character. Proponents of this view argue that achieving or at least striving for visual

5.3. BODY AS OBJECT IN BODY PROJECTS 119

Figure 5.5: “Kusuri–uri” (Photograph by Corey Newcombe)


Figure 5.6: Steampunk “Jack”


accuracy is important to the practice of cosplay.

Physical accuracy is valued by some cosplayers because it is seen as showing respectfor the character and an expression of dedication and fandom (see Chapter 3). Manycosplayers strive for accuracy because it is appreciated by audiences including othercosplayers. Santhosh explores this aspect while describing the cosplaying activities ofhis novice friend Lim,

[...] when he was just starting like me, he was like, ‘I’ll just put this onand be from Naruto.’ I was like, ‘You’re not even representing a character!You’re wearing sunnies; you’ve got your hair wrong. None of the characterslook like that.’ And he was like, ‘I’m just having fun.’ And now slowly, he’sbeginning to realise, like when he did the Gintama one, that it’s better to getit correct because all these people come up to you and go, Oh you lookexactly like the character!’ That sort of reaction you get, it’s so much moreawesome!’ (Santhosh, Author’s Interview 2012)

In Santhosh’s narrative his friend Lim learns that accuracy is valued by the commu-nity. As a novice cosplayer Lim is learning the aesthetic values of the practice throughreceiving critiques or positive responses from more experienced cosplayers like San-thosh. Audiences, especially audiences of other cosplayers, play an important role inpromoting particular understandings of cosplay accuracy.

Cosplayers who believe that the body should be transformed for cosplay performancesoften enact this idea through engaging in longer–term body transformation ‘projects’(Shilling, 2003). Shilling (2003) has argued that individuals, particularly in developedWestern societies, are increasingly viewing their bodies as objects, or ongoing projects,which can be developed and remoulded over time. In a parallel to Bourdieu’s habitusthese transformation processes are linked to the formation of particular identities. How-ever, moving beyond the habitus, Shilling’s (2003) concept of the ‘body project’ givesa stronger emphasis to agency. Agents commit to a particular body project in order toparticipate in a particular group or access a particular lifestyle. Participants have chosento engage in these particular activities from a range of possible options.

Activities performed for cosplay which can be considered ‘body projects’ include di-eting, body building, maintaining piercings, and long–term commitments to hairstyles.Similar activities have been identified as body projects in studies of bodybuilders (Gill


et al., 2005), hair salons (Barber, 2008) and body modification (Crossley, 2005). Thesetransformation activities are undertaken by cosplayers in considerable advance of an up-coming event. They often effect longer term changes on the cosplayer’s body, changesthat are visible to onlookers in contexts outside of cosplay activities such as members ofthe cosplayer’s family, friends or workmates. In undertaking body activities that requirelonger term commitment cosplayers demonstrate their willingness to sacrifice time andeffort to the creative process.

Dieting and muscle–building are two body transformation activities practised by cos-players. Public accounts of dieting and muscle building for cosplay were published bycosplayers online and performed as oral narratives in cosplay competitions. Sometimesthese accounts are positioned as being broadly aspirational; the narrator explains theirnewfound success and happiness (in both cosplay and their broader life) upon achiev-ing the transformation of their bodies. For example Taiwanese cosplayer Ajo describedher cosplay success after her weight loss in ‘When Cosplay Makes You Diet’, an ar-ticle posted on the Australian version of videogaming website Kotaku (Kotaku.com,2013).

While some cosplayers may diet or engage in muscle building activities as part ofbroader body projects, shaping their bodies in accordance with body ideals of slim-ness and fitness present in wider Australian society, in some instances cosplayers mayshape their bodies in order to mimic the physical features of a particular chosen charac-ter.

In an onstage interview during the 2011 MNCC host John Robertson and contestantMel discussed the body shaping activities Mel used to achieve a taught flat stomachreminiscent of her chosen male character:

J: [...]You’ve said you like miso soup. What’s the story there with misosoup?


M: I used to drink like three glasses of Pepsi for breakfast but when I re-alised that I would have to do a costume that bares my stomach I thoughtah yeah, better stop that. So I’ve cut out the Pepsi and replaced it with misosoup for breakfast instead so now I have a miso addiction instead of a Pepsiaddiction [audience cheers]. But I’ve lost like an awful lot of weight so I’mhappy [audience cheers].

Moments later, as part of the performance, the host presented the contestantwith a bottle of Coke.

J: So you get right into that the minute this is done, darling!

M: I am not fitting into this costume tomorrow!(MNCC Final 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

Contestants’ and hosts’ performances onstage portrayed the cosplayer’s dieting activi-ties as being primarily associated with the creation of that particular costume, not nec-essarily indicating that the cosplayer will incorporate dieting activities as part of hereveryday body practices. The contestant’s sacrifice is portrayed as being for the pur-pose of cosplay.

In order to recreate a character’s visual look a cosplayer may also make semi–permanentalterations to their ‘everyday’ haircuts and styles. To outsiders, altering a hair style mayseem a trivial matter. However, as the hair–styles of many anime, manga, science–fictionor videogame characters are frequently exaggerated or outlandish cosplayers seekingaccuracy need to create and wear styles that would appear very distinctive if worn to anAustralian workplace or school.

While many cosplayers temporarily change the appearance and/or texture of their hairfor particular events using wigs, styling products and dyes, other cosplayers pursuelonger–term hair projects, growing out, cutting, or bleaching their hair. These hairprojects extend the cosplayer’s transformation activities out of the event time frameand into the everyday.

ACG cosplayer Ben described how on several occasions he (drastically) altered his nat-


urally dark hair to recreate the hairstyles of different characters:

Obi Wan Kenobi... I used to be ridiculously full–on, like years ago. I gotmy hair dyed. I went to a hair dresser and said, ‘Can you make my hair likethis?’ I grew it specifically, grew a beard and stripped it away which killedlike no man’s tomorrow. (Ben, Author’s Interview 2012)

In addition to the cost, commitment and physical pain he apparently underwent toachieve character–accurate hairstyles, Ben also reported feeling socially uncomfortablewhen his commitment to long–term hair projects necessarily forced him to wear someunusual styles in more ‘everyday’ contexts:

B: I’ll usually get really into it. I grew mutton chops. For this photo I grewsome megas [very large Victorian–style whiskers] which is for the OlympiaFringe event, the first one. And I thought, well I’m about to shave these off,I’m going to take a photo of it. I got some weird looks. That’s the wholething, context.

C: It’s all about context.

B: In the right clothes it looks great but out of the clothes I look like a freak.I get weird looks. (Ben, Author’s Interview 2012)

The examples above illustrate the association some cosplayers draw between longerterm body projects and commitment to the practice of cosplay. Like bodybuilders andothers who undertake body projects, cosplayers who choose to enact longer–term bodytransformations are rendering their bodies into an expression and representation of theircommitment to a particular lifestyle. These ‘ridiculously full on’ semi–permanent trans-formations require the cosplayer to incorporate body transformation activities into theireveryday lives, a physical commitment to cosplay aesthetics of accuracy which may bedeemed out of place in other non–cosplay social contexts. These cosplayers are visiblychoosing to value bodily accuracy even at the risk of physical and social discomfort. Incompetitions and online these cosplayers are sometimes highlighted as models of cos-play heroism (Okabe, 2012) who have dedicated themselves to the practice. Crossley(2005) has argued that body modifications and other body projects can be performed

5.4. BODY AS OBJECT IN SOCIAL DRESSING ACTIVITIES 125

reflexively, as deliberate acts. Here, cosplay body projects are portrayed not only as de-liberate acts, but as heroic acts, a practitioner’s dedication to visual accuracy inscribedon their body.

5.4 Body as Object in Social Dressing Activities

While some cosplayers engage in longer–term body transformation activities the ma-jority of transformative activities undertaken by cosplayers are performed in the daysand hours prior to an event such as a convention or photo shoot. To non–cosplayingfriends and family I would sometimes jokingly describe my preparation activities be-fore a cosplay event as my “Clark Kent Superman” routine. Like the Man of Steel andhis mythologised transformations in phone booths, cosplay event preparation activitiestypically take place in ‘backstage’ (Goffman, 1990) spaces at cosplayers’ homes, atfriends’ houses, in hotel or hostel rooms, in the toilets of conventions, or even some-times inside a parked car. These preparation activities can take any time between fifteenminutes and several hours depending on the complexity of the cosplayer’s outfit.

Makeup application, I usually allow about two to three hours beforehandfor makeup application alone. Then you also have to figure out, ‘Oh I’min my costume and ready to go... Hmm... How can I drive there in this?’


For some cosplayers their body transformation activities may be restricted to the don-ning of a particular garment and footwear or may extend to activities such as wearingspecialised undergarments, body painting, make–up, wigs or hair styling and/or the ap-plication of latex prosthetics and coloured contact lenses. For many cosplayers thesepreparatory body transformation activities act as a kind of threshold ritual allowing thecosplayer to prepare themselves both mentally and physically for a day out at an event,for stepping onto a public stage.

These preparation activities can be a collective experience for cosplayers as they oftenmeet before a performance event to dress together. In a similar manner to the activi-ties of members of the British Goth subculture preparing themselves for a night out asdescribed by Hodkinson (2002), cosplay group preparation activities can themselves be


Figure 5.7: Dressing transformation sequence – #1

5.4. BODY AS OBJECT IN SOCIAL DRESSING ACTIVITIES 127

Figure 5.8: Dressing transformation sequence – #2


experienced as an exciting social event as group members provide assistance to eachother and share in feelings of anticipation (or nervousness) before the public cosplayevent. Goffman (1990) describes backstage spaces as areas where the performers en-gage in activities that strengthen their loyalties to one another and the group. This isfrequently true of cosplayers getting ready together. As they prepare together for events,cosplayers socially reinforce the idea of the body as transformable object as they assisteach other achieve transformations and teach transformation techniques.

During my fieldwork cosplay experiences cosplayers dressing together often looked toeach other as a measure of appropriate levels of body transformation. I was helpingcosplayers Julia and Jane prepare for a party. Both were dressed in costume whenJane took out a makeup palette and began using eyeshadows to colour her face greenand create floral patterns around her eyes. Julia took immediate inspiration from thisaction and asked Jane if she could borrow some of her makeup to create designs onher own face. Despite the fact that the cosplayers had not planned or co–ordinatedtheir costumes together until this point, dressing together with Jane helped to shapethe assembly of Julia’s costume. Jane’s decision to incorporate makeup as part of hercostume influenced and facilitated Julia’s decision to do the same.

The complicated designs of some costumes occasionally necessitate the assistance ofanother person to help dress the cosplayer. The social dressing and undressing of cos-players’ bodies can place cosplayers in positions of considerable physical intimacy withone another, requiring them to touch each other’s bodies in ways that may be consideredinappropriately familiar in more everyday contexts. Lacing another person’s corset, forexample, requires the lacer to observe the cosplayer naked or clad in minimal under-wear, the touching of skin and the moulding of flesh with the tightening of laces orclasps. In cosplay contexts I laced corsets for acquaintances and friends, who, in moreeveryday contexts I would never interact with on that level of physical intimacy. Inthis way, through tying or sewing each other into outfits, painting each other or stylinghair, cosplayers effect transformations on each other’s bodies. Offstage group dressingpractices reaffirm and strengthen social relationships between cosplayers but they alsoreinforce and reproduce the idea of the body as a mouldable object through the groupre–enactment of body transformation practices.

Cosplayers may assist one another to shape or transform their bodies and may teach eachother new transformative skills. Entwistle (2000) has identified dressing as a learned

5.5. THE PROBLEM OF THE PAINFUL BODY 129

practice In interviews and casual conversations cosplayers often described how theywould seek assistance from fellow cosplayers. For example Julia described to me howshe visited Steve, friend and extremely experienced cosplayer, before attending an Ade-laide Zombie walk event as part of a cosplay group. Steve applied latex facial prosthet-ics to Julia’s face, enabling her to display gruesome and technically challenging visualeffects she would have been unable to achieve herself.

In instances where cosplayers have similar levels of competency, shared preparationand dressing activities may serve as both learning and bonding experiences, especiallyin the case of shared failure or misadventure. Daniel recounted to me his experienceof participating in the preparations of the hairstyle of a mutual friend, Aiden, for a cos-play event. The young men had visited the hairdresser together to get their hair cutespecially for their respective cosplays. They then decided to dye Aiden’s hair in theconfines of Daniel’s home to transform it from Aiden’s natural light brown to the darkblack of his chosen character, “Aladdin” from the (1992) Disney animated film. As nei-ther man was especially familiar or proficient with the application of packet hair–dye,an accident occurred and hair dye was applied to Aiden’s face. Both cosplayers tried nu-merous methods to remove the dye. Eventually both cosplayers ended up fully dressedin Daniel’s shower trying to scrub Aiden’s face. The unusual level of intimacy sharedby the men and their struggles to master the skill of hair dyeing were presented as hu-morous by Daniel as he recounted the story to me. However, Daniel deemed the story tohave a happy ending as Aiden’s face was eventually cleaned and his hair was an accuratecolour for the cosplay event. The transformation was ultimately successful.

Dressing activities often enact and reinforce the concept of the body as a mouldablecosplay object. In these activities cosplayers, alone or in groups prepare their bodies forpublic performance, donning clothes, applying makeup and wigs. As these dressing ac-tivities are often social occasions, ideas about appropriate levels of body transformationare discussed and shared and transformative competences are taught.

5.5 The Problem of the Painful Body

While cosplayers’ preparation practices enact the idea of the body as a mouldable objectthat can be transformed in the quest of achieving bodily accuracy, for many cosplayers


the experience of actually wearing a costume throughout the course of an event can re-veal the structuring limitations of the body. The wearing of heavy, constricting garmentsand accessories regularly causes cosplayers to experience fatigue, overheating, dehy-dration and pain. Painful or uncomfortable sensations force performers to experiencetheir bodies in new ways as they become consciously aware of a sense of embodiment(Aaltern, 2005; Wainwright and Turner, 2006). These experiences of embodiment poseserious challenges to cosplayer’s understandings of their bodies as transforming craftobjects.

Personally, throughout my fieldwork activities I frequently found wearing cosplay aphysically uncomfortable experience. From wearing a masked costume with poor visi-bility onto a Melbourne train, cosplaying in the heat of summer in Perth and Brisbanewith make–up running with my sweat, to spending a day on my feet in stilettos or plas-tic Japanese traditional footwear, to enduring the constant itch of overheated wigs andprosthetic latex ears. Often after spending eight hours of a convention day in costume Iwould be exhausted, over–heated, and dehydrated with aching muscles. My list of mi-nor discomforts was on the mild side of the spectrum of bodily discomfort experiencedand endured by members of the cosplay community.

When chatting with other cosplayers at events they would often, unprompted, describeto me the feelings of discomfort they were currently experiencing. When cosplayingas a member of a group we would often attempt to work our activities around groupmembers’ needs to rest, eat or adjust aspects of their costumes in the bathrooms. Despitetheir verbalised feelings of discomfort cosplayers I encountered rarely changed out ofcostume dress into more comfortable attire throughout the day, rather they removedparticularly restrictive or uncomfortable items for periods at a time.

Similar to other practices such as martial arts (Spencer, 2009) and ballet (Aaltern, 2005;Turner and Wainwright, 2003) there is exists an idea within cosplay that pain and dis-comfort should be ignored or endured for the sake of aesthetic effect, in this instanceaccuracy. In many practices the experience of pain is viewed as a necessary aspect ofthe activity; the endurance of pain is heroic and provides evidence of the practitioner’scommitment to the practice (Wulff, 1998; Turner and Wainwright, 2003; Aaltern, 2005).This attitude towards pain is produced and supported through social contexts (Aaltern,2005; Turner and Wainwright, 2003; Spencer, 2009). The experience of pain is medi-ated through the reactions or the anticipated reactions of others (Turner and Wainwright,

5.5. THE PROBLEM OF THE PAINFUL BODY 131

Figure 5.9: Daniel in pain (Photograph by Patrick Korbel)


2003).

The role of social contexts in shaping participants experiences of pain or discomfort wasregularly evident at cosplay events. I was walking with a group of cosplayers through thestreets of Adelaide for a photo shoot on a scorching summer’s day of over thirty–eightdegrees Celsius. Walking alongside me, Daniel was dressed as “Captain Jack Harkness”from the science–fiction series Torchwood wearing woollen pants, heavy boots, a T–shirt underneath a long–sleeved cotton shirt, red braces and a full–length grey woollentrench coat. I was sweltering myself despite being more lightly dressed as “Ash” fromthe Pokemon anime series in shorts, T–shirt and cap, and I assumed he must have beenquite uncomfortable as beads of perspiration were appearing on his forehead. I askedDaniel if he would at least consider taking off his trench coat. He replied no. I askedhim why not and he replied,

You guys are all in costume. I don’t want to feel left out. I mean, ifyou take off your hat or something you’ll still be in character. Jack isthe coat. Without the coat I’m just a man in suspenders. If Iron Mancan still walk around in vacuum hydro–foil then I can wear my coat.

(Daniel, Author’s Fieldnotes 2012)

Daniel was uncomfortable but he decided to endure his costume to achieve solidar-ity with the group. His comments also compared his own experiences to imaginedexperiences of other cosplayers suffering and enduring more pain than himself. Thepain–endurance capabilities of other cosplayers inspired his own reaction to his dis-comfort.

5.6 Body as Object in Competition Narratives

Aaltern (1997) in her study of professional ballet dancers argues that a similar attitudetowards ignoring or enduring the body’s pain responses is instilled in would–be dancersthrough explicit instruction in dance training institutions and companies. The idea ofthat painful or uncomfortable body experiences should be ignored or endured by thecosplayer throughout the duration of an event is one that is reproduced through sharedpractice and learnt by newcomers to cosplay communities of practice. Cosplayers can

5.6. BODY AS OBJECT IN COMPETITION NARRATIVES 133

be exposed to the idea in ongoing discussions with friends and fellow cosplayers, in cos-play tutorials, forums and articles online, or in the context of cosplay panel discussionsat conventions.

This concept is also actively and publicly performed in the context of cosplay competi-tion interviews. Onstage, in front of audiences, cosplayers are interviewed by the com-petition’s MC or host about the creation of their costume and their experiences whilewearing it. These interviews are often filmed by convention organisers and audiencemembers and are displayed to wider audiences online.

During many competition interviews that I observed hosts and contestants would referto the impact of the costume on the cosplayer’s body and contestants would publicallyarticulate their body experiences. The heaviness of props or costumes, the costume’srestriction on their body’s manoeuvrability, the heat or stuffiness of costumes or thecosplayer’s exhaustion after preparing the costume or performing a skit were commonthemes of these oral narratives.

H: [...] Now you were telling me backstage you’ve run into just a littlesmidgen of a problem with your costume.

C: [audibly panting] I’m incredibly hot.

H: We know that, next [crowd cheers]. You see Brisbane’s amazingly hu-mid for cosplayers. You have sweat, yes?

C: I have a full bodysuit of neoprene which is the stuff they make [stillaudibly panting] wetsuits out of. Yeah, I’ve lost basically half my bodyweight. (MNCC Final 2010 Video Author’s Transcript)

As evident in the above example from the MNCC Final, in these performed narrativescosplay contestants simultaneously portray themselves as both embodied performerswho experience pain and discomfort, and as cosplay masters, who are capable and de-voted enough to withstand these feelings of discomfort in order to present a visuallyarresting and enjoyable cosplay performance. The performed narratives also enablethe host and competing cosplayers to uncover and highlight competitor body feats that


would be invisible to the eyes and cameras of the audience.

The performance of the interview may also reveal to the audience cosplay body featsthat took place earlier in time during the competitor’s preparation activities, in offstagecontexts typically inaccessible to the audience. The struggles of the backstage are per-formed for the audience onstage. In the following example the host tells a story aboutpain previously endured by cosplayer Kathy, who after completing a vigorous acrobaticskit, at that moment was standing onstage on a pair of traditional Japanese merchantgeta wooden stilt–like shoes:

H: [...] Now I just want to make a point, just right here, Kathy, who iscurrently standing up on those shoes - one, she’s had leg surgery, two,she sprained her ankle yesterday. It is a miracle that she can walk letalone in those shoes and do a flip in a fight scene. Ladies and gentle-men, a round of applause right about now for effort! [audience cheers].

(Host, MNCC Final 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

In both examples the oral performances of the cosplayers’ experiences allow cosplayersto articulate their sensations of discomfort as well as their abilities to endure that dis-comfort, aspects of their cosplay performances which would not be evident to audiencesand judges without this verbal articulation. In all instances described the performingcosplayers were onstage, visible to the audience, wearing detailed, accurate and com-plete costumes, and many had just moments prior performed skits involving expressionsof body skills acrobatics, mime, quick–change routines. The juxtaposition of the mag-ical and apparently effortless visual performances of the competing cosplayers with thestories of embodied pain and effort in their oral narratives, serves to enhance competingcosplayers’ image as masters. It demonstrates that the competitors can apparently over-come the demands of their bodies but they can also make it appear to the audience as ifthis struggle is not occurring.

While competitors’ narratives of pain endurance associate the abilities to shape one’sbody and ignore pain with cosplay mastery, this idea is occasionally further reinforcedby public statements by the hosts and judges of the competition.

During the first competition I personally competed in at AICon in 2011 I was publi-cally identified as a newcomer to the competition scene by my participation in the ‘NewBlood’ category. After I described the physical sensation of the heaviness of my cos-

5.7. CHALLENGING THE BODY AS COSTUME OBJECT 135

tume in an onstage interview one of the judges gave this public piece of advice to meand the audience:

J3: I don’t really have anything else to add but I do have kind of a slogan thatI’ve come to live by as I’ve been cosplaying for longer and longer and thatis, ‘if it doesn’t hurt you’re not cosplaying hard enough.’

(Judge 3, AiCon Competition 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

In this comment the judge explicitly associated ideas of effort and amateurism withpain endurance. Cosplayers who care about their performances and wish to participatecorrectly should be willing to transform their bodies at the cost of pain and discom-fort.

These performed discussions about pain and the body in competitions have the poten-tial to reinforce the debate over body transformation within communities. In performingcompetition narratives prestigious individuals within the community, including experi-enced competitors and judges, communicate their views to newcomers and outsiders.The transformation of the body and the endurance of pain are portrayed as acts of cos-play heroism in front of an audience. These views are redistributed to a wider audienceas filmed performances are uploaded and viewed online.

5.7 Challenging the Body as Costume Object

However, as in other ethnographic contexts ideas about the dressed body in cosplaycommunities of practice are not uniform but are instead constantly negotiated and chal-lenged. While the idea that the body should be transformed for the sake of accuracy,even at the expense of the cosplayer’s comfort, is enacted in cosplayer’s body projects,dressing rituals and competition narratives, it is important to note that a counter dis-course, that cosplayer bodies do not have to be completely transformed to visually matchthe bodies of chosen characters, is also promoted by practitioners in online articles andforums, and panels.

Indeed, while the ideal of the transformable body may be prevalent in Australian com-munities of practice, in practice transformation of the body can be difficult, painful, oreven impossible, as many cosplayers themselves recognise. Anime, manga, videogame


and science fiction bodies are fantasy bodies and therefore it is impractical or even dan-gerous for cosplayers to attempt to recreate a character’s physique exactly.

One critique of the body accuracy idea identifies the discourse as a form of gatekeepingas it restricts the participation of participants whose body types are not well representedin inspirational texts. Bodies in source texts for cosplay - manga, comic–books, anime,videogames, science–fiction and fantasy films and television programmes - are, in themajority, young, white or fair skinned, tall, slender, physically fit, completely able–bodied and can be considered physically attractive within the parameters of specificgenre conventions (Napier, 2005).

As many cosplayers argue, in blogs, articles, forum posts and in conversation, if visualaccuracy is the primary goal of cosplay activities then cosplayers with seldom repre-sented body types, cosplayers whose bodies do not or cannot be made to match thesecharacters, are severely restricted in the types and number of cosplays they can per-form.

Malaysian–born cosplayer Santhosh discusses this issue:

C: I know this is a little controversial within cosplay but how much do youthink a person needs to physically look like the character?

S: That’s debateable. Take for example, me, I’m not Australian. I’m not awhite Australian. I’m Indian, so to find characters that have brown skin anddark hair it’s actually quite hard. I guess it’s debateable. Probably the cos-tume itself because that’s what the anime is, the face not so much becauseyou could never look like that. (Santhosh, Author’s Interview 2012)

As many cosplayers have argued in blogs and forum posts, strict adherence to bodilyaccuracy in cosplay practices has the potential to replicate structural inequalities perpe-trated in contexts beyond the community of practice. Cosplayers of the ‘wrong’ race,body shape or gender may be restricted in their participation in the practice.

In 2013, an illustration by American cartoonist Alexandra Dal was shared on Facebookby a number of my cosplaying friends and acquaintances. The image depicts two fe-male cosplayers with larger, curvy body shapes smiling and interacting while dressedas “Cheetara” and “Lara Croft”, respectively. Two male cosplayers are shown watching

5.7. CHALLENGING THE BODY AS COSTUME OBJECT 137

them looking unimpressed. One, dressed as “Wolverine” comments, ‘Ugh, it shouldbe illegal to cosplay outside your body type’. His companion, dressed as “Kratos”exclaims, ‘FAIL’. Both male cosplayers are also depicted as being heavier and non–muscular, inaccurate to the characters’ body types.

The sharing of this image promoted lively discussion on the issue of bodies in cosplay.Many commentators identified with the satirical content in the cartoon, condemning re-actions of cosplayers who behaved like the male characters and expressing anger andfrustration that this form of gatekeeping seemed to be particularly targeted against fe-male participants. The discrimination against cosplayers ‘playing against type’ was readby some cosplayers on Facebook as an extension of broader forms of gender discrimi-nation.

Participants with under–represented body types are forced choose how they will prac-tically negotiate concepts of bodily accuracy. While he acknowledges the restrictionsof a pro–bodily accuracy position, it is a position that Santhosh still supports. To ne-gotiate this view in his own practices, Santhosh tactically chooses to cosplay charactersthat are masked such as mecha suits or character who visually match his own personalappearance.

S: [...] Of course it would be a plus if you looked like them. That’s whyI chose my first costume to be “Kaname Tousen” because he’s brown–skinned and he had long hair. I thought, ah he fits me! A lot of my friendssaid, go for it! You’d pull off the part easily. When I went to AVCon ev-eryone was like, ‘Oh my god it’s Tousen! He looks exactly like him!

(Santhosh, Author’s Interview 2012)

Other cosplayers take a rather different approach, performing characters whose designsdo not match their body type and refusing to alter their bodies to match. Examples ofthis include cosplayers choosing to portray characters who are a different ethnicity, adifferent body shape, or an alternative gender. On blogs and websites some cosplayersportray this choice as an inherently political decision.

In a blog post that was linked and shared by several of my cosplaying friends withinthe local community, American cosplayer Chaka Cumberbatch discussed her decisionto cosplay as non–black characters. She reported receiving racist comments and accu-sations that her cosplays were not accurate as she was cosplaying characters whose skin


colour did not match her own.

But my skin color is something I can’t change, nor would I if I had theability. I love the skin I was born in, and I won’t apologize, make excusesor work around it for anyone’s benefit beyond my own. One of my goodfriends (and cosplay idols) does a killer Wonder Woman and Batgirl whereshe prominently features her natural hair almost as a centerpiece. Seriously,a Wonder Woman and a Batgirl rocking a full head of gorgeous, naturalcurls. Who could be mad at that?[http://www.xojane.com/issues/mad-back-cosplayer-chaka-cumberbatch]

(Chaka Cumberbatch, 2013)

In a parallel to Strathern’s (1979) account of the Hageners’ attitudes towards body deco-ration, these cosplayers see the external body as equivalent to an internal ‘self’. Accord-ing this view cosplayers perceive physical characteristics such as race or body shape asintrinsic to their conception of self their physical body and adornments is not merely anexpression of self, it is the self. Altering one’s skin colour or body shape for a cosplayis here viewed as a betrayal of self. By choosing to ignore bodily accuracy in characterchoice, cosplayers like Chaka simultaneously protest the limited representation of bodytypes in source texts, and personalise pre–existing character designs by adapting themto incorporate their own cosplayer bodies. Instead of actively playing against type othercosplayers, like Renee, may deliberately choose to perform costumes that emphasisetheir non–mainstream body type:

I like characters that are a bit sexy that I can flaunt so that’s where myburlesque style comes in. I play to my assets. If I was a tiny little stick thinskinny dancer then I would be able to wear a lot more different things. Iplay to how things will make me feel so if I’m not going to be comfortablebeing a character then I won’t do it. I’ve always loved Jessica Rabbit. I’veloved the figure and I’ve got such an hourglass figure that I can pull it off.


In performing her “Jessica Rabbit” cosplay Renee negotiates accuracy with self–expressionand a celebration of her body as an aspect of her self.

Another challenge to the idea that cosplayers should significantly transform their bod-ies for the sake of accuracy comes from within the practice’s own values system. Some

5.8. CONCLUSION: BODY DEBATES AND THE RECREATION OF PRACTICE139

practitioners argue that cosplayers should not have to alter their bodies to achieve accu-racy if doing so would in any way impede the cosplayers’ ability to enjoy and expressthemselves in performance.

J: [...] If someone loves it enough to make it, then that’s it. If you can seethat they’ve worked really hard or if they’re really enjoying wearing it, evenif they’ve bought it as long as they’re happy. I don’t really care only oneexception: fur suits and flip–flops. (Julia, Author’s Interview 2012)

Julia’s comments here explicitly challenge accuracy as cosplay’s primary aesthetic andethical value. Proponents of this view often emphasise the idea that cosplay should bean expression of self and love of character, technique or text.

This view was publically expressed and performed by several elite cosplayers who werepresenting introductory panels. In an AVCon panel the presenters spent some time dis-cussing the idea of bodily accuracy. In their speech the presenters adopted a rhetoricalstrategy of addressing a non–present opposing other, ‘some people will say...’ The malepresenter argued that cosplayers should disregard the bodied nature of their chosen char-acters - tall people should be able to cosplay short characters, fat - thin, male - female.He recounted a personal anecdote where he and another male friend selected charactersthat were opposite to their own contrasting heights. It was not ‘accurate’ but the pan-ellists still perceived it to be good cosplay because all performers enjoyed themselves.Again, in these discussions the value of self–expression and the value of amateurism arepromoted as more important or authentic to cosplay than the value of accuracy.

5.8 Conclusion: Body Debates and the Recreation ofPractice

Exploring the dressed body in cosplay again highlights the heterogeneity of the prac-tice. Cosplay, as it is practiced in Australia, is not centered upon one recognised set offormalised body techniques. Instead cosplayers can employ an incredibly diverse rangeof body transformation effects. While these body expressions may appear diverse theyare far from chaotic. Body transformation activities are structured and positioned inrelation to an ongoing debate over the role of the body in cosplay.


Theories of social practice and anthropological perspectives on dress and embodimenthave long established the potentially generative and productive role of the body in cul-ture. In Bourdieu’s (1990) account of the habitus the body is depicted as a meansthrough which cultural ideals and values are reproduced through being inscribed uponthe bodies of practitioners. Expanding on Bourdieu, many anthropological and socio-logical accounts of practice have argued that practitioner bodies are shaped and disci-plined so as to reproduce the values of the practice; practitioner bodies are shaped intodancer bodies (Aaltern, 2005) or doctor bodies (Rice, 2010).

However, within the practice of cosplay in Australia it is not a set of established bodilytechniques which is reproduced but instead a debate over the role of the body in the prac-tice. The debate itself is culturally productive. Negotiations of different ideas of bodilyaccuracy inspire different forms of body transformation activities, and the creation oftextual products such as blogs, panels and tutorials where cosplayers enact and discussdifferent notions of accuracy. Cosplayer bodies may appear very diverse and cosplayersmay hold different views about what their bodies can and should be, but these ideas,performances and products are all situated within the framing of this practice–wide de-bate in which bodies are seen as craft objects or alternatively as aspects of a distributedself.

At the heart of the debate over the role of the body is a conflict over the primary valueand purpose of cosplay itself. As in many other cultural contexts, dressed bodies in cos-play are sites of negotiation of competing values. In dieting to look like a character, inhelping another cosplayer transform their body, in choosing a character whose appear-ance matches their own, in refusing to alter their body, in talking about their choices andactivities online and in competitions, cosplayers negotiate the role of the body in cosplayand consequentially the nature of the practice itself. Cosplayers’ dressed bodies can beseen as the primary site of negotiation of these values but there are many other contextsthroughout the practice where this debate is contested in material practice and discourseincluding social dressing rituals, convention panels, competition performances and on-line blogs.Through engaging in these material and discursive practices cosplayers aredebating the question, is accuracy the most important value in cosplay? Is the produc-tion of visually accurate embodied recreations more important than comfort, safety andegalitarianism? Is personal identification with the character and self–expression a moreauthentic form cosplay? What is cosplay all about?

5.8. CONCLUSION 141

This state of uncertainty does not seem to paralyse communities of practice. Instead itappears to be generative as the debate itself inspires countless cultural products: blogs,panel performances, and dressing activities. Individual practitioners must negotiate theirown position within the debate. This chapter has demonstrated that individual cos-players can hold nuanced attitudes towards the debate. The individual negotiations ofcosplayers creates further diversity within the practice as cosplayers develop their ownpositions towards the debate and negotiate these views in their body practices.

This debate over the role of bodies in the practice renders cosplay as distinct from manyother costuming practices. Cosplay theorists have identified accuracy or mimicry of anoriginal design as an element that is absent from other spectacular dress practices in-cluding Lolita and Steampunk (Truong, 2013). Defining accuracy and debating bodilyaccuracy are activities which uniquely concern cosplayers. To be a cosplayer there-fore, a practitioner does not have to acquire a restricted set of bodily techniques butinstead needs to situate their body practices within the framing of a community–widedebate. The role of uncertainty, contestation and negotiation in cosplay practices willbe further explored in the following chapter in which I shall explore the ways in whichcosplayers and audiences negotiate multiple participation–frameworks within cosplayperformances.

Chapter 6

Playing in Costume, Framing thePerformance

The photograph in Figure 6.1 depicts two cosplayers dressed as characters from theDynasty Warriors (Koei 1997) videogame series performing a sword fight with propweapons. Aware of my presence and the other photographers who are standing out offrame, the cosplayers are adopting in–character martial stances. Another member ofthe same Dynasty Warriors cosplay group is standing nearby, out of character, fiddlingwith a plastic bag. Photographers and other costumed and non–costumed attendees arestanding and sitting nearby. The shot captures some of the details of their elaborate,handcrafted props and costumes. Also visible in the frame are more mundane, out ofcharacter items such as a pair of shoes, a backpack and a plastic lunch box.

It is Sunday afternoon at AVCon in the foyer of the Adelaide Convention Centre, severalhours before the cosplay competition is due to start in the main hall. The foyer is astrangely angular space that connects the two main areas of the convention the largeexhibitor hall, and the somewhat labyrinthine building that houses the auditoriums usedfor screenings, the smaller panel rooms and the main hall itself.

In this foyer space, between exhibitor hall and the auditoriums, convention attendees are‘hanging out’. If this was Melbourne’s Manifest at the Flemington showgrounds wherethe buildings used by the convention are spread out across an outdoor space, conventionattendees would be lounging on the grass or sitting at some of the few available pic-

143

144 CHAPTER 6. PLAYING IN COSTUME, FRAMING THE PERFORMANCE

Figure 6.1: Dynasty Warriors

145

nic tables, but this is AVCon so the attendees are perched on the faux–leather seating,leaning against walls, sitting on the grey carpet or just milling about.

To outsiders it may appear strange that convention attendees, having paid thirty–fivedollars to attend the event, an event with traders’ halls and artists’ alleys, where screen-ings, panels and competitions are scheduled throughout the day, should choose to spenda portion of their time in an area with no organised activities. However, to those whopause in this space for even fifteen minutes it becomes clear that this unclassified, un-scheduled space is a site of important interactions for convention attendees, especiallycosplayers. In the foyer and down its adjoining corridors are cosplayers standing, sit-ting, chatting, ‘bitching’, resting and posing for photographs.

This is a space where serious cosplay photographers and convention attendees alike caninteract with cosplayers at close proximity. Unlike the auditoriums and panel roomswhere the boundaries between competing cosplayers or panellists and their audiencesare clearly spatially segregated, here in the foyer cosplayers and other attendees canapproach and chat to one another, take close–up photographs and see the details oncostumes and props.

A young man dressed as “Spiderman” is wrapping convention attendees in Gladwrap.There are squeals of mock–horror as man with long plastic tentacles attached to hisarms deliberately brushes the bodies of passers–by. Several young Naruto cosplayersare seated nearby, eating hot chips from paper cups. Towering over them all, a “JackSkellington” cosplayer, from Disney’s (1993) The Nightmare Before Christmas, is tee-tering about on stilts that are hidden beneath the fabric of his elongated trousers.

There is much to see and plenty of ways to see it. Convention attendees gaze at oneanother with their naked eyes, through the lenses of their SLRs, on the screens of tabletsand smart–phones. A photographer snaps a picture of a Dalek. The cosplayer hiddendeep within the body of the costume can barely see anything at all. Across the room anon–costumed attendee asks a cosplayer in Elizabethan–style finery how she achievedthe detailed embroidery on her dress.

This chapter focuses on ‘hallway performances’, largely informal and barely structuredperformances that take place in the liminal spaces of popular culture conventions, cor-ridors, foyers and courtyards (Lunning, 2011). These performances are temporary as-semblages of costumed performers, non–costumed and costumed spectators, and pho-


tographers. Harkening back to the example of the multiple “Daenerys Targaryens” thatopened the thesis, hallway performances can be seen as a microcosm of the practiceof cosplay itself. From these dynamic, heterogenous, and emphemeral performancespractitioners must create sense and meaning.

When cosplayers, photographers and other spectators observe and participate in thesehallway performances, they must ‘frame’ these actions, determine the status of all par-ticipants in relation to the performance, outline the appropriate conduct for those partic-ipating and provide a particular context in which the meanings of the performance canbe interpreted (Bateson, 1955; Goffman, 1990, 1981). Giddens (1984, p.87) identifiesframing as an important aspect of meaning–making within a practice as frames act tocategorise, regulate and sanction particular activities in particular contexts.

Previous explorations of cosplay performances have tended to focus on the performanceof character (Lunning, 2011), gender identities (Galbraith, 2013), sexual identities (Gn,2011), and subcultural or fan identities (Rahman et al., 2012). In this chapter I will ex-plore the framing of three interconnected types of hallway performances: activities thatare framed as ‘in–character’ performances where the cosplayer acts in a way that refer-ences an original character or text; actions that are framed as performances of ‘sexiness’,a nebulous quality associated with desirability and attractiveness; and performances ofcraftsperson identities. In the semi–structured spaces of convention hallways performersand spectators shift between these ‘participation–frameworks’ (Goffman, 1990, 1981).A cosplayer may present as a giant robot in one moment and a skilled armourer in thenext.

However, within the contexts of hallway performances framing often becomes a verydifficult task due the unstructured fluidity and dynamism of the performance space.Audiences and performers are shifting roles and the cues for framing, verbal, embodiedand material, are themselves unstable. The more loosely structured settings of hallwayperformances may allow some participants to achieve success and recognition but maycause others embarrassment or anxiety.

Schieffelin (1996) has identified performances as socially risky activities. Hallway per-formances carry a high level of risk as the difficulty in framing these dynamic perfor-mances means that performer intentions and audience interpretations may not cohere.Expanding upon concepts of negotiation in performance identified in other ethnographic

6.1. PERFORMANCES IN TIMES AND SPACES 147

contexts (Cowan, 1990; Hughes-Freeland, 2007; Mendoza, 2000), this chapter explicitlyportrays meaning–making in performance as potentially fraught process as the mean-ings of performance acts are created through the intentions of the performer, the materi-alised performance, and the interpretation of the audience. The potential for frameworkslippage and misinterpretation abound. Exploring hallway performances of character,craftsmanship and sexiness, this chapter will demonstrate how performers and specta-tors alike attempt to draw order out of the apparent chaos that are convention corridorperformances.

6.1 Performances in Times and Spaces

Hallway performances of the type described by Lunning (2011) tend to occur at popu-lar culture conventions and other specialty cosplay events. In Australia anime, manga,videogame and more generalist popular culture conventions typically take place at con-vention centres such as the Adelaide Convention Centre or the Sydney Convention Cen-tre – large permanent building complexes designed for the staging of conferences, tradefairs or commercial exhibitions that include purpose–built auditoriums, meeting roomsand exhibition spaces, or alternatively at showgrounds – even larger complexes, origi-nally designed for the staging of agricultural shows, which typically include large exhi-bition halls, auditoriums and outdoor arenas. Historically, many of Australia’s currentnot–for–profit conventions were originally held at university campuses as organisationcommittees were often closely associated with particular university clubs or associa-tions (Norris and Bainbridge, 2009). Other smaller events featuring cosplay are oftenheld in public parks and botanic gardens or even in shopping precincts such as Ade-laide’s Harajuku no Yoko evenings held in the city’s Central Markets.

Most events will feature formalised cosplay performance occasions such as competi-tions or panels which are usually staged in pre–arranged locations like auditoriums. Onthe fringes of these formal performances are hallway performances taking place in hall-ways, foyers, car parks and courtyards. The liminal nature of these spaces creates andheightens the ambiguity of the performances which take place within them.

Space plays a strong role in defining the contexts of a performance (Giddens, 1984;Turner, 1979; Goffman, 1990; Edensor, 2001; Ahearn, 2012). In relation to tourist per-

Figure 6.2: Map of AVCon from 2011

This figure/table/image has been removed to

comply with copyright regulations.It is

included in the print copy of the thesis held

by the University of Adelaide Library.


formances, Edensor (2001) identifies different types of tourism performance spaces or‘theatres’ ‘enclavic spaces’ strongly structured and regulated for particular activitiesand ‘heterogeneous spaces’ ‘multi–purpose’ spaces that allow for multiple activities toperformed and allow easy intermingling between tourists and non–tourists (64).

Enclavic spaces (Edensor, 2001) are certainly present at Australian pop culture con-vention events. These spaces are structured so as to imply a formalised demarcationbetween audience and performer: panel rooms, screening rooms, and stages. Inter-actions between audience and performer in these spaces are ideally highly controlled.Audiences may applaud, comment, ask questions or move around the space only at par-ticular moments in the performance, and these interactions are initiated and permittedeither by the performer herself or by convention organisers or volunteers who may actas enforcers.

Time in these spaces is also structured. Schedules, printed and digital, and signs ondoors and walls indicate that particular events are supposed to take place in these spacesduring allocated time periods which have been scrupulously planned in advance bythe Event Co–ordinator of the convention and his team. Ideally, a convention attendeeshould be able to visit these spaces at any given time during the convention and knowwhich particular performance will be taking place there.

In contrast corridors, courtyards, hallways, and car parks are ‘heterogeneous spaces’(Edensor, 2001). These are the threshold spaces, spaces to be passed through on theway from one timetabled or purposed space to another.In convention booklets, maps andwebsites they are not usually ascribed a particular function in relation to the meaningfulpurposes of the convention event. Due to their nature as threshold spaces all partici-pants in the convention pass through them during the course of the event cosplayers,traders, volunteers, photographers, members of organising committees, security guardsand guests. While these spaces are not formally organised by convention organisingcommittees they are spaces that are both amorphous and structured, and are sites ofinteractions that are both flexible and formalised.

The threshold nature of hallway spaces gives rise to a number of shifts as things in thesespaces move from one state to another. One shift that occurs in these spaces is the de-lineation between backstage and front–stage. Goffman (1981) has argued of televisionstudios that the front–stage is wherever the camera lens is pointing and this analogy can


Figure 6.3: “Sand Person” and photographers

be usefully applied to informal convention spaces. In these areas a cosplayer can enactan in–character performance in front of a photographer before shifting to eat a bucketof chips several minutes later, often with the photographer still nearby.

Another is the constant changing of roles between spectators and performers (Goff-man, 1981). Unlike the formalised conditions of cosplay competitions (see Chapter 7)where the boundaries between performers and audience are firmly established, the lackof formal spatial demarcation in hallway spaces means that spectators and cosplayerscan intermingle in close proximity. Spectators can photograph cosplayers close–up, askcosplayers questions, chat, embrace them, step on the trains of their dresses and cloaks.Cosplayers can observe and interact with one another, pose together, see the detailsof their costumes and props. All those who move through these spaces can observethe actions of those around them, and one’s own role in the action may be constantlychanging.

This constant shifting between roles and the demarcation of backstage and frontstage


spaces makes it difficult for performers and spectators to frame hallway cosplay perfor-mances (Truong, 2013). Expanding on Truong’s (2013) insight, I would argue that inthe face of these difficulties cosplayers and spectators alike engage in ongoing interpre-tations and negotiations of hallway performances. Accounts of dress and performancepractices in other ethnographic contexts have highlighted that the meanings of dress inperformance can be highly ambiguous require ongoing negotiation (Bridgwood, 1995).In performance these negotiations may occur between performer and spectator as per-formers’ intentions are interpreted by audiences (Ahearn, 2012; Schieffelin, 1996). Theperformer herself may also internally negotiate various values and motivations, weigh-ing self–expression against community aesthetics or expectations (Bridgwood, 1995;Cowan, 1990; Hughes-Freeland, 2007).

These negotiations may be pleasurable but can also cause anxiety for both performersand spectators (Bridgwood, 1995; Cowan, 1990; Schieffelin, 1996). With the constantshifting between different participant–frameworks and the different roles of participantsthere is the constant danger that a performance may be misinterpreted (Schieffelin, 1996,1998; Goffman, 1981; Bateson, 1955). A performer may lack the competency to com-municate their intended message to their audience or to produce the desired effect; aspectator may lack the knowledge or inclination to interpret the performance or to par-ticipate in the event in the ‘appropriate’ manner(Schieffelin, 1996). A performanceis therefore always enacted at the risk of failure (Schieffelin, 1996). The compulsionto avoid failure and the demand for self–surveillance to ensure that their performanceis cohesive and ‘correct’ can cause the performer to experience some level of anxiety(Cowan, 1990; Edensor, 2001).

In preparing for conventions, cosplayers often express both excitement and trepida-tion at the prospect of showcasing their costumes. As participants in hallway per-formances move between different spaces and roles they also shift between differenttypes of performances, or ‘participation frameworks’ (Goffman, 1990). Shifting be-tween in–character performances and performances of craftsmanship, the cosplayer isalways at risk of having their performance misinterpreted or alternatively framed byspectators.


6.2 Getting Into Character

One of the most distinctive types of hallway performances are in–character perfor-mances. Within convention hallway spaces, courtyards and corridors cosplayers canoften be seen enacting the role of the characters that their costumes materially represent(Lunning, 2011; Rahman et al., 2012). These performances are usually physical withthe cosplayer mimicking the stances, gestures, gaits, and facial expressions that are con-sidered recognisable or representative of the character, and sometimes verbal with thecosplayer calling out key ‘catchphrases’ or reciting lines of dialogue.

Acting within this participation–framework, the practices of spectators and perform-ers are considered meaningful in the ways that they relate to specific texts videogames,television programmes, films, anime, manga or Western comics that are known and cel-ebrated within the cosplay and wider convention–attending community. The practice ofcosplay, in this context, is understood as fan practice, a material and performed expres-sion of the cosplayer’s identification with, and/or appreciation of a particular characteror text. Referring to Gell’s (1998) model of the ‘art nexus’ wherein objects gain meaningand affective properties through their relationship with other objects, source texts hereact as ‘prototypes’ which are indexed by cosplay costumes and performances.

Academic and fan literature can often be guilty of fixating on in–character performancesat conventions, emphasising this type of performance to the extent that outsiders to thepractice may come to believe that most cosplayers spend the entire duration of an eventparticipating in this framework (Lunning, 2011; Rahman et al., 2012). Cosplayers donot typically spend the whole of their time at conventions in–character but rather shiftin and out of this framework at a moment’s notice.

I took the photo sequence depicted in Figures 6.5, 6.6 and 6.7 at AVCon in 2012. I waswalking with a party of cosplayers in the foyer in the hope of seeing and photographingother performances when I encountered this cosplayer and her two attendants. I askedher if I could take a picture and she consented, almost immediately adopting the postureof holding her two props. I began taking shots from a little distance and in the fewmoments between each of these images one non–costumed attendant on the grounddarted close to the cosplayer’s body to arrange the hem of her kimono while anotherquickly reached to position a giant purple painted fan behind her head. To my side,

6.2. GETTING INTO CHARACTER 153

Figure 6.4: Sengoku Basara cosplayer


Figure 6.5: Fan sequence - photo #1


another photographer had just begun to shoot the same cosplayer. In the last image thecosplayer’s eyes glance towards him.

The camera often acts as a cue to the cosplayer to initiate an in–character performance.Throughout my fieldwork I attempted to photograph cosplayers at conventions and otherevents in ‘out of character’ moments. Except through sheer accident this was rarely suc-cessful. At Adelaide’s Oz Comic–Con in 2012, for example, I attempted to photographsome fursuit cosplayers who were encircled by a ring of cosplay photographers. Myintention was to capture the stances of the photographers and the cosplayers from a dis-tance in order to explore embodied photographic practices at conventions. I stood to oneside hoping to capture the whole scene, behind a huddle of photographers, crouchingand standing, all pointing their lenses at the cosplayers. However, the photographersnoticed my presence behind them and politely moved out of the frame so that I couldhave a clear shot of the cosplayer unimpeded by the intrusive ‘noise’ of photographerbodies. Noticing the presence of another photographer, a cosplayer turned her body di-rectly towards me to give me a front–on shot and enacted an in–character pose, raisingher taloned paws. These actions took place in the matter of seconds.

For in–character cosplay performances to be successful a number of elements need tocohere (Goffman, 1990): the cosplayer’s dress and embodied performance need to berecognisable to spectators. For this to occur, performing cosplayers need to have thefan–knowledge, craft–knowledge and bodily skills to create recognisable performancesand spectators need to have the fan–knowledge to recognise these performances. In thisway, in–character performances are only rendered successful when both intentions ofthe performer and the interpretations of the spectators are aligned.

For the performer the costume itself is usually considered to be the greatest aid in thecreation of in–character performances. The transformative effect of some costume partsupon the body (as explored in Chapter 5) physically cause cosplayers’ bodies to resem-ble those of the characters they are portraying. However, for cosplayers the transforma-tive effect of costumes may also occur on a symbolic level. As with masks in traditionalritual settings (e.g. Mendoza (2000)) cosplay costumes may give cosplayers permissionto take on the persona of the character:

C: What does it feel like to wear the Captain Jack costume?


Figure 6.8: Cat and Rabbit


D: Umm well, it’s like putting on Captain Jack, himself. I’m already kindof flippant and fun, I would like to think, but when you put on the coat it’skind of a license to be a bit more Captain Jack and to make sexual innuendoabout everything. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

While in–character performances may appear spontaneous, accurate in–character per-formances can require a considerable amount of offstage research work on the part of thecosplayer. As with the costume assembly process, research for an in–character perfor-mance often involves re–watching, reading, or playing the text or searching for furtherreferences online to identify and collect the character’s well–known physical poses andspoken phrases.

While the intentions and skills of the individual cosplay performer are an importantelement in determining the meaning and success of a cosplay performance act, cosplayperformances are intrinsically social activities and require the participation of others.Cosplayers may perform as individuals but frequently they also perform as members ofa group or ‘team’ (Goffman, 1990). Team performances are often enacted by groups ofcosplayers who attend convention events together, dressed as characters from the sametext or franchise. These pre–planned cosplay groups often require considerable offstageorganisation on the part of participating cosplayers. Team members must delegate rolesand assist others to create or complete their outfits ensuring that all members of thegroup, novices and masters, are able to be costumed to a uniform standard. Cosplayspectators often told me that they particularly enjoyed large group cosplays and in thehallways and corridors of convention events these groups were usually surrounded byspectators and photographers.

In team performances cosplayers are able to create images and sequences that representthe characters from the text interacting with one another. These performances maycanonically reference the text characters who are threatening in the text may behaveaggressively towards their teammates; characters who are in romantic relationships inthe text may pose together in intimate clinches or they may playfully satirise or invertthe canonical text “Darth Vader” may provide hugs; characters who are not romanticallylinked in the text, often characters of the same gender, may be portrayed in passionateembraces.

Team cosplay performances may be the result of meticulous planning or may happen


spontaneously as cosplayers happen upon other cosplayers performing as charactersfrom the same text. Walking the hallways with other cosplayers we would often spota related character in the crowd and approach them to chat and pose together for apicture.

D: [...] there have been some fantastic Daleks and some great Tardis thingsand whenever I see Captain Jacks I like to have pictures with them but it’s apart of the whole cosplay group thing where you go and find all your otherpeople and go and photo with them.

C: So you try and find all the other people in your series?

D: We kind of gravitate towards each other anyway. . .(Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

Occasionally, cosplayers performing characters from unrelated texts may team up topresent a performance together, often with the express purpose of creating performancesor images that achieve the mash–up found in other fan works such as fan fiction, AnimeMusic Videos (AMVs) and cross–over fan art, whereby unrelated characters are play-fully mixed together in a ‘mash–up’ to create a joke or provide some form of com-mentary upon each other (Booth, 2012). In this photograph taken at AVCon 2012, an“Ezio”, the title character from the game Assassin’s Creed II is enacting the assassi-nation of the villainous “Bane”, from the DC Batman franchise. The cosplayers areeach performing in–character, speculating as to how their characters would react to thefantasy scenario.

My own experiences and the narratives of other cosplayers who participated in teamcosplay performances destabilises the idea of the individual performer’s intentions asthe most important element of a performance. Goffman (1990) has argued that for teamperformances to be successful there must be coherence, with all members performingtheir appropriate parts. The “Ezio” and “Bane” photograph would not have existedif both performers had been unwilling to participate. Successful group performancesdepend on the willingness of cosplayers to adopt complimentary roles.

Perhaps the most pointed example of this situation occurs when two cosplayers interact


Figure 6.9: Daniel and “Dalek”


Figure 6.10: “Ezio” and “Bane”


who are performing as the same characters, as there can be confusion over who is toadopt which role. Who is the character? Who is the spectator? How can they performtogether? I observed one exchange between two “Captain Jack Harkness” cosplayerswhen Daniel met another “Jack” at AVCon 2012. Daniel claimed that at the start ofthe encounter he felt uncomfortable as he did not know what to say and he felt that theother cosplayer had a superior costume in terms of accuracy. However, a compromisewas reached as the cosplayers began to role–play what would happen if the characterhappened to meet a second version of himself:

C: What did you guys talk about?

D: Mostly what Captain Jack would do if he met himself in the Torchwoodworld which we decided was sexing. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

The two cosplayers had their photographs taken, posing together and in this way, throughtheir verbally–created fantasy situation of the existence of two “Captain Jacks”, theywere able to quickly negotiate roles in a performance context.

Cosplayers are not the only participants in hallway cosplay who renegotiate roles. Spec-tatorship itself can be considered a form of social performance and spectators oftenassume performative roles in cosplay performances. In the hallways and corridorsnon–costumed convention attendees often interact with cosplayers as if they are thecharacters they are portraying, calling them by the character’s name, pretending to befrightened or intimidated by threatening characters such as Daleks or Cybermen, pet-ting cosplayers in fur suits as if they were, in fact, animals, asking favourite charactersfor hugs and posing alongside cosplayers in photographs as if they were tourists pos-ing with costumed mascots at a theme park. As mentioned previously, the in–characterperformances of cosplayers are regularly initiated or inspired by spectators explicitlyseeking out performances.

Apart from very young children who accompany their parents and siblings to the events,spectators are well aware that the robots, wolves, goddesses and aliens that are walkingabout the convention halls are costumed fans, and are ‘playing along’ with a kind ofknowing wink enjoying the illusion while simultaneously being aware that the illusionis a construction of the cosplayers. Indeed, the creation and sustaining of the illusioninvolves some level of participation and performance on the part of non–cosplaying


spectators. I observed a particularly strong example of spectator performances in Ade-laide at two separate convention events where a local male cosplayer dressed as Spi-derman rolled other convention attendees in Gladwrap, creating the visual illusion thathe had entrapped the attendees with spider’s web, and then posed with them for pho-tographs.

Convention attendees that participated in this performance usually performed the partof the terrified, trapped victim and cosplayers who also consented to be Gladwrappedwould often attempt to react ‘in character’ to their situation. These Gladwrap “Spider-man” performances took place in the halls and foyers of the conventions, usually withan encircling crowd of photographers and other spectators who would often shout sug-gestions for poses to the performers. The illusions were therefore created through anassemblage of elements: the “Spiderman” cosplayer, his costume and embodied per-formance, the prop of the Gladwrap which was interpreted by the audience as spider’sweb, the embodied performance of the ‘victim’ and the directions and reactions of theobserving crowd.

In order for the ‘correct’ assembly of these elements, all participants had to possess theshared knowledge of the Marvel comic book character “Spiderman”, his appearance andhis skills. It is only with this knowledge that the actors know appropriate expressionsand poses; that objects like Gladwrap can be understood to be spider’s web; and themeaning of the performance can be understood.

Recognisability is an essential element for a successful in–character performance. Cos-players often explicitly related audience identification of their chosen character to per-formance success.

No one’s going, ‘What’s that blue turtle thing?’ I hear people calling out,“Squirtle!” and I know that I’ve done it, I’m a success.

(Daniel, Author’s Fieldnote 2012)

For some, not being recognised by spectators, including other cosplayers and photogra-phers, caused them to experience feelings of disappointment and frustration. At AVConin 2012 I ran into a cosplayer I knew who was dressed as “Cure Blossom” from thePretty Cure franchise, a franchise very popular with Japanese audiences but unavailableto Australian audiences. In our brief exchange I mentioned the name of her characterand she immediately exclaimed that she was glad that I had recognised her costume as


she was feeling disappointed that other people had not recognised the character.

Other cosplayers I spoke with argued that their aim was not for their performance to bewidely recognised by audiences but only recognised by select, appreciative fans:

J: When I did Vampire Willow the ones that recognised it were quite excitedand they asked for photos with them being bitten and it was quite exciting.I haven’t done anything really mainstream enough to warrant that stuff likewhen Darren wears his Cyberman suit to cons. He gets swamped. Wecan’t take him anywhere; he’s just covered in people. There are a lot ofpeople who do costumes like that rather than things they love. I usuallydo things that aren’t that popular but the people that know it, love it.

(Julia, Author’s Interview 2012)

In her interview, Julia echoes a sentiment expressed by many cosplayers who view lim-ited recognisability as a mark of distinction. Only fans with enough knowledge to recog-nise the cosplay are deemed the ‘right people’ to enjoy the costume. This attitude alsobrings to bear the value of amateurism as these cosplayers view themselves as choos-ing character for pure motives because they love the character or text and feel a deepaffiliation rather than out of an impure desire for attention.

While performers strive to achieve recognisability, spectators themselves must be ableto recognise. The ability to view cosplayers ‘correctly’ requires spectators to have aknowledge and understanding of the characters and texts referenced on display. Toparticipate fully, spectators need to be able visually identify the characters being por-trayed by cosplayers, often to have an understanding of the characters’ personalities,trademark poses and phrases and their relation to other characters and the narrative ofthe text. While cosplayers often fear that their costumes and performances will not becorrectly understood and interpreted by spectators, spectators often fear offending cos-players or portraying themselves as ignorant of important fan texts. When in cosplaymyself, I was approached many times by non–cosplaying attendees who would begin toaddress me with, ‘Excuse me, but are you... [character name]?’, or alternatively, ‘I’mreally sorry. I don’t know who you are but...’

I found that this response occurred frequently when I was wearing my “Juri Arisugawa”cosplay from the celebrated anime Revolutionary Girl Utena (J.C. Staff, 1996). Oftenspectators and other cosplayers would visually recognise the character and the identify


the series but would remark to me in somewhat abashed tones that they had yet to seethe show, though, they assured me, they had always intended to watch it. I occasionallyeven found myself reassuring others that not seeing the series was okay because it hadyet to have an Australian DVD release.

These exchanges are illustrative of the high level of value placed on fan knowledgewithin the convention–attending community. The ability to identify the characters be-ing performed by cosplayers is a skill acquired by convention attendees through hoursof ‘work’ outside of the convention time–space: watching television series and films,playing games, reading manga and western comics, visiting websites and forums andchatting with other fans.

Convention attendees who are unable to recognise the character being performed by thecosplayer are potentially unable to participate fully in the activity of fannish spectating;they are unable to enter into the game of knowing illusion. As one cosplay spectatorexplained the importance of recognisability to me:

It’s not just authenticity but it’s that, ‘Oh yeah, I’m in on the joke. I get that.I understand that.’ (Author’s Fieldnote 2012)

Spectators who cannot recognise the characters are also excluded from participating incertain aspects of the pleasurable activity of evaluating the efforts of other cosplayers.They cannot judge the accuracy of the cosplay as they are unfamiliar with the originalwork the costume is referencing.

D: If I don’t recognise it how do I verify that it’s authentic? If someone’sdoing a “Doctor Who” cosplay I know it and I recognise straightaway thatnot only are they being the Doctor but they’ve done a really awesome cloneof Matt Smith. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

In hallway performances framing is dependent upon recognisability. In a later con-versation Daniel discussed elements he identified as ‘anchors’ of cosplay performance,particular costume elements, verbal catchphrases or embodied postures that would im-mediately render the performance as identifiable as a particular character to an audience(Daniel, Author’s Fieldnote 2012). He used “Jack Harkness’s” trademark trench coat asan example.According to Daniel if these elements were missing from a cosplay perfor-mance audiences would be unable to identify the performance (Daniel, Author’s Field-

6.3. PLAYING THE CRAFTSPERSON 167

note 2012). Daniel explained that while he enjoyed watching cosplays of characters herecognised, he found watching cosplays of unrecognisable characters less amusing ashis lack of familiarity with the original characters meant that he was unable to judge themerits of the cosplay and the cosplayer according to the value of accuracy.

Successfully framed in–character performances are co–created by both performers andaudiences; performer and spectator can connect in a playful manner through the sharedunderstanding of character and text. However, failure to recognise or be recognisablecan result in embarrassment for both performers and spectators. The potential for failureon the part of performer or spectator is heightened by the large number of texts andcharacters that can be the subject of performance, as well as the varying levels craft andthe performance competences on the part of the performer, and the levels of communityknowledge possessed by the spectator.

6.3 Playing the Craftsperson

While some hallway actions may be framed by audiences and performers as ‘in–character’performances, other actions can be framed as performances of cosplay craftsmanship.While cosplayers at events are often performing as characters or as fans they are alsoperforming as craftspeople dressmakers, make–up artists, prop–makers, wig stylistsand actors. The performance of craftsmanship as an aspect of cosplayer identity is sel-dom explored in pre–existing accounts of cosplay performance (for an exception seeOkabe (2012)). As outlined in the preceding chapters, crafting practices planning, de-signing, constructing, assembling are major components of cosplay communities ofpractice. The role of cosplayer as craftsperson is one that many cosplayers take se-riously as demonstrated in previous discussions of ‘amateurism’ expressed in cosplaypanels and cosplay narratives of costume assembly.

Convention hallways performances are one context in which cosplayers are able to per-form themselves as craftspeople, skilled practitioners who have assembled the materialitems they are displaying on their bodies. Due to the spatial contexts of hallway perfor-mances spectators are better able to see details and flaws on costumes. Cosplayers andnon–cosplaying spectators can intermingle and chat about cosplay construction. Cos-play competitions, a more formalised performance context where craftsmanship comes


to the fore again, will be discussed in the following chapter.

In contrast to the in–character framework within the craftsmanship participation–framework,cosplayers attempted present themselves and are judged by spectators as skilled craftpractitioners. In interviews some cosplayers such as Jenita claimed that they primarilywanted to be seen as craftspeople. They wanted spectators and audiences to recognisetheir costumes as assembled–objects, created, sourced or put together through skill andeffort. Spectators, especially those who cosplayed, often reported that they enjoyedwatching and appreciating the skills of cosplayers.

The craftsmanship participation–framework often intersects with the ‘in–character’ frame-work through the concept of ‘accuracy’; cosplayers are judged on their ability to ac-curately mimic pre–existing character designs known to cosplayers and other specta-tors.

The craftsmanship participation–framework does not only focus on material aspectsbut is also often extended to include the ways that cosplayers perform the role of cos-play performers in the theatrical sense, displaying their skills in the crafts of acting,embodied mimicry, acrobatics and improvisation. Confusingly, cosplayers perform si-multaneously as a character and as persons playing characters. In the Western artsworld acting is often described as a ‘craft’ and is a skilled activity requiring the actor toachieve mastery of their body and voice. Not every cosplayer will have lovingly sewnmetres of pearl beads onto a silken dress or hand–worked leather into wearable armour.Others may wish to demonstrate their skills in theatrical performance displaying theirability to recreate the character in this way and to elicit a desired response from specta-tors. As spectators and cosplayers may judge and compare material handiwork of hallcosplayers, so too are judgements made about the comparative performing abilities ofcosplayers.

Cosplayers and non–cosplayers both discussed the (occasionally spiteful) pleasures ofobserving and evaluating hallway performances as performances of craftsmanship. Through-out my observations I never witnessed a cosplayer critique another cosplayer’s costumeto her face in person; comments were often whispered to other members of the critiquingcosplayer’s party out of earshot of the person being evaluated. The amount of offstagework put into some cosplay costumes, and the close personal association between cos-player and their self–created object or performance, mean that when critiques do occur


it is likely that cosplayers will feel a deep and personal sense of alienation. Severely cri-tiquing another’s costume and skills to their face is considered an aggressive act.

X: Whenever I go to a convention and I’m wearing my Poison Ivy and I’mrunning around and I see another one, I’m like, (falsetto voice) ‘Oh, hi Poi-son Ivy!’ But in my head I’m like, ‘I’m so much better than you.’

C: I suppose we all do this, we make comparisons with ourselves to others.Are you mostly looking at the technical aspects of what you’ve done versuswhat they’ve done?

X: Yep. I see other people and I’m like, mine looks better, mine’s madebetter. Hers will last one wear, maybe two and they’re held together withtape and glue. (Author’s Interview 2012)

At the heart of many comments made by spectators was the idea that the skills, andperhaps most importantly, the efforts of the cosplayer could be literally read from look-ing at their costumes. Spectators regularly claimed to be able to ‘tell’ how much effortthe craftsperson had exerted simply by viewing their costume as the quotation aboveindicates. Spectators, particularly other cosplayers, would often become indignant andoccasionally angry when describing cosplays that they deemed lacking in effort. Thelabours of the cosplayer need to be rendered visible and material for enjoyment of thespectators, as one spectator expressed it: ‘We want to see the passion.’ (Author’s Field-note 2012)

Some cosplayers considered the ability to act equally important to the creation of ‘goodcosplay’ as the ability to assemble costume objects:

I think that simple costumes, when they’re done well but they’re performedwell that’s when people should be winning prizes. It should be not onlyabout the costume but the way you deliver it. [...] You can wear an okay cos-tume but if you perform the shit out of it you can win prizes. It’s a personathat you put on when you’re wearing it as well. (Renee, Author’s Interview 2012)

In–character performances could also be judged as evidence of the skill and effortof the cosplayer. Cosplayers were considered more or less proficient at performing


as their characters, using their bodies and voices to recreate recognisable poses andphrases.

People who are playing people who are supposed to be sort of confidentswordspeople or they’re playing someone who’s got a massive gun andthey’re kind of, [very quiet voice] ‘Umm... yeah, cos I like the charac-ter and stuff.’ And you’re like urghh All you need to do to be better is justspeak with a little more confidence. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

In spontaneous hallway performances or when posing for photographs, cosplayers whoseembodied performances did not cohere with other elements of their self–presentation,particularly the character as represented by their costume and props were often judgedto be lacklustre by spectators and other cosplayers.

However, skill is not always in the eye of the spectator. A self–made costume, a com-missioned costume and a bought costume are not always visually distinguishable. Thewearer of the costume did not always assemble the costume. Hallway performancesof cosplay craftsmanship often involve verbal discussions of costume and narratives ofcostume assembly. In his study of Japanese cosplayers, Okabe (2012) identifies sharedstories of craft processes as a major form of cosplay knowledge dissemination.

Narratives about assembly processes are simultaneously presentations of the self. Theo-rists of material culture have highlighted that narrated stories about objects can be usedby the narrator to draw past events into the present moment and create a very particularimpression of the teller (Ochs and Capps, 1996; Shankar, 2006). Hallway exchangesregarding craft knowledge can create relationships between cosplayers, including hier-archical relationships where the questioner is positioned as novice and the responder ispositioned as experienced.

Typically exchanges begin with one cosplayer asking another for a photograph or com-plimenting another cosplayer on their costume or a feature of the costume embroidery,wig styling, gem casting, props. When dressed as “Kusuri–uri”, for example, I receivedcomments about my ears: ‘I love your ears!’ or ‘Your ears are so cute.’ Sometimes di-rect questions were asked about how particular features were constructed and sometimescosplayers provided construction information as a form of reply. When complimentedon my ears I would often reply, ‘Thanks. They’re just foam and papier mache’ (Author’sFieldnote 2011).


Cosplayers that I approached at events would sometimes provide longer narratives abouttheir construction processes. In these narratives cosplayers often emphasised the amountof effort that they had put into their costume. For example, a Trinity Blood cosplayer Iapproached at AVCon was at pains to point out to me that she had hand stitched rowsof hundreds upon hundreds of imitation pearls to her dress. Others emphasised themundane nature of the materials that they had used. A woman in a very impressivecostume from World of Warcraft explained to me how she had constructed her toweringhorns from cardboard toilet rolls. If she had not told me about her use of everydaymaterials I would never have guessed from looking at the finished product.

Sharing stories of assembly processes can help to build relationships between cosplayersand distribute cosplay knowledge. At Supanova Adelaide 2013 I was attending as parta group of Game of Thrones cosplayers when we ran into another group cosplayingcharacters from the same television show. We started discussing each other’s costumes.I complimented a “Cersei” cosplayer on her belt and she told me that she had used thethermoplastic, Worbla, as the main material and listed the main suppliers she knew inAdelaide. Members of each group took photographs of each other’s costumes, posedtogether in photographs and continued our relationships and discussions later throughFacebook.

The idea that meeting other, experienced cosplayers at conventions is an excellent wayof developing a cosplay novice’s craft knowledge and social network was regularly pro-moted in cosplay panels. In these situations a novice is encouraged to ask an experi-enced cosplayer how they achieved a particular effect, how they were able to balanceon stilts or mould their armour, and the experienced cosplayer reveals this informationfor the benefit of the novice. An experienced cosplayer is a cosplayer with stories to tellabout their assembly processes. Those whose assembly processes are simpler may nothave any interesting information to relate.

Exchanges about cosplay construction could sometimes cause cosplayers embarrass-ment rather than pride. At one event I complimented a young Final Fantasy XIII cos-player on her ‘Lightning’ cosplay. She looked somewhat abashed and said that it was‘only’ a bought cosplay. I quickly sought to reassure her by saying that I thought shewore it very well. While many of the cosplayers with whom I attended conventionsoften wore cosplays with purchased, pre–made elements and many cosplayers iden-tified this as a normal, acceptable part of cosplay practice, the idea that completely


self–created costumes are superior to ‘shelf cosplays’ was echoed cosplayers’ hallwayperformances.

In interview I talked with Daniel about an exchange that had made him feel embar-rassed:

D: [...] One person asked how I made the coat and I was like, ‘UmmI boughtit.’

C: When they asked you had you bought it you sound like you felt uncom-fortable. Why did you feel uncomfortable?

D: Because the people who make their things from scratch seem to get athey put more effort in to it. They win the competition because they didn’tget theirs from the shop. They vacuum hydrofoiled their coat from nothing-ness and personally wove the threads. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

After his first experience attending an event dressed as “Squirtle” from thePokemon franchise, a costume he had made himself, Daniel reported to methat he felt much more confident about talking to other cosplayers:

People ask me about the costume and I tell them about dyeing the shell andthe problems I had with the tail. It’s good. Now I’ve got a story to tell.

(Daniel, Author’s Fieldnote 2012)

In hallway contexts, possessing a narrative of assembly can distinguish experiencedpractitioners from the novice cosplayers. Through narrating their assembly processes,cosplayers verbally articulate their craft skills and creative choices. They have tipsand tricks they can share with others; they can exchange knowledge with other expe-rienced cosplayers or dispense wisdom to newcomers. Unlike those with self–madecomponents, cosplayers wearing ‘shelf cosplays’ cannot respond to questions with longconstruction narratives that perform their effort, skill and dedication to their practice.Hallway exchanges allow cosplayers to perform themselves as master crafters but alsocreate the potential for the cosplayer to be revealed as a novice.

6.4. PERFORMING SEXINESS 173

Like ‘in–character’ role play, craftsmanship performances can be both anxiety–provokingand pleasurable. Cosplayers, in the lead up to events, frequently expressed online theirfears that their costumes, and consequently their skills, would be found wanting. As theexamples above demonstrate, this anxiety is justified. In hallway contexts cosplayersmay find their costumes and performances the subject of craftsmanship evaluation bypractitioners and other spectators. Craftsmanship is evaluated through both the visualand verbal aspects of the performance. These exchanges can bring practitioners closerthrough the exchange of stories between peers or the instruction provided by experi-enced practitioners to newcomers. However, these performances can also be strugglesfor distinction as cosplayers are required to demonstrate their competency to an observ-ing audience. Again, cosplay craft competences are performed and objectified.

6.4 Performing Sexiness

Framing in–character and craft performances can be confusing, with the potential forsuccess and failure. However, the most ambiguous participation–frameworks for per-formers and spectators to negotiate are performances of sexiness. Other studies haveexplored cosplay performances of gender and sexual identities, but I am focusing on themore nebulous quality of sexiness which was deemed desirable by many participants.As with other types of hallway performances, successful performances of sexiness relyon both performer competences and audience interpretation. However, as emphasisedin dress and performance ethnographies of other cultural contexts (see for exampleClarke and Miller (2002); Hansen (2004); Cowan (1990); Bridgwood (1995); Wood-ward (2007b)), sexy performances are fraught with risk for performers, and sometimesspectators. Negotiations of sexiness can involve discussions of competency, bodily ac-curacy and attractiveness, amateurism, pleasure and danger.

Within Australian cosplay communities of practice sexiness is a nebulous concept.What is considered ‘sexy’ amongst cosplayers and spectators varies considerably. Through-out my fieldwork I encountered many genres of sexiness that spanned across boundariesof gender, sexuality and culture. Many of these genres of sexiness reflected representa-tions of sexiness in cosplay source texts, as well as ideas of sexiness within fan commu-nities and from the broader contexts of Australian culture.

Figure 6.11: Renee as “Jessica Rabbit” (Photograph by Emmanuel Photakis)






For example, Renee’s “Jessica Rabbit” cosplay from the film, Who Framed Roger Rab-bit? (1988), draws upon a very particular Western concept of sexiness that is feminineand nostalgic, playing on cultural myths of the seductress and the femme fatale. In hercostuming activities Renee explicitly attempts to practice and celebrate this concept ofretro feminine sexiness and incorporates traditional burlesque visual and performanceelements into many of her costumes.

In contrast, Maddie views the Maid as representing a very different kind of sexiness:

Sexy, yes, but more of an innocent sexy, so it’s more like this untouchableessence as opposed to this kind of skanky girl who’s been around the blocklots of times. It’s that if you get lucky with a maid, you know you probablywon’t because you’re not really supposed to; it’s like an amazing thing.

(Maddie, Author’s Interview 2010)

Maddie views this concept of Maid sexiness, with its ideas of purity and subservience,as developing out of Japanese cultural texts and practices, such as the maid caf culture.Both these concepts of sexiness differ considerably from the masculine, military, queersexiness associated with Daniel’s performance of “Captain Jack Harkness”.

Interpretations of cosplay performances as ‘sexy’ often intersect with other participa-tion frameworks. As with in–character performances, sexy performances may referenceand gain meaning from their relationship with pre–existing designs and texts. Cos-players may deliberately choose to perform characters that are recognised in the fancommunity as being sexually attractive, flirtatious or even sexually aggressive. Thesecharacters may be represented in this manner in the original texts or represented thisway in widely discussed non–canonical fan interpretations. Choosing these kinds ofcharacters can provide the cosplayer with an opportunity to perform a variety of sex-ual identities, dress in particular styles or use particular props, and engage in behaviourthat they personally would not enact in more everyday contexts, behaviour that could bedeemed inappropriate or offensive outside of the convention event space.

C: You like to take on the character’s persona?


D: It makes things acceptable that I might not normally do. It’s the AVConenvironment as well. They kind of accept that because I’m dressed as Cap-tain Jack I’m going to have the characteristics of Captain Jack and do thingsthat I wouldn’t do. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

In these instances the cosplayer is taking on a form of intertextual ‘sexiness’, a sexinessarising not necessarily from their personal, everyday attributes, their bodies and theirperformances, but rather from the character and understandings of the character as beingsexy. The cosplayer performing as that character takes upon the ‘sexiness’ attributed tothe character.

While cosplayers may perform particular characters as a way of being and feeling‘sexy’, audiences also participate in the creation of fantasy performances. While fansmay fantasise about meeting a favourite character and interacting with them, many fansenjoy imagining themselves interacting with favourite characters in a specifically sexualmanner. When interacting with cosplayers, non–cosplaying fans have an opportunity toenact these fantasies in a very restricted sense.

During hallway performances spectators will commonly request to pose in photographswith cosplayers representing favourite characters. If the cosplayer is amenable this mayinvolve the cosplayer, in–character, hugging the spectator or giving them a peck on thecheek. Sometimes spectators will even scream at passing cosplayers who are playingcharacters that they find attractive with phrases such as: ‘I love you “Sephiroth”!’ and ‘Iwant to have your babies!’ (Author’s Fieldnotes 2010). This loud, exaggerated displayof affection can serve to attract the attention of the cosplayer but is also a form ofperformance of fandom and desire enacted by the spectator.

To my knowledge, my own cosplays did not receive this particular type of spectatorattention but I regularly observed this form of interaction between non–cosplaying fansand cosplayers with whom I often attended events. When walking with a group ofcosplaying friends through the trader’s hall at AVCon in 2012, we were suddenly alertedby some loud exclamations of ‘Oh my God! Oh my God! Can we have a picture withyou?’ Some non–cosplaying female convention attendees had rushed up from a nearbystall to approach one of our party, Ashton, who was dressed as the eleventh incarnationof “The Doctor” from Doctor Who. They asked if they could hug him and he obliged.They then posed with him for several photographs, including a group photograph which


was taken by another member of our party. This incident was discussed as a humoroussubject in conversation by other members of the party for the rest of the afternoon whereAshton was described as a ‘celebrity’ and the female fans as ‘groupies.’

For cosplayers and audiences alike, performances of sexiness can be pleasurable andexciting. However, in contrast to other kinds of cosplay performance, performances ofsexiness are particularly risky as failed performances can lead to acute embarrassmenton the part of performers and/or spectators, and can potentially lead to physically andemotionally dangerous outcomes such as sexual harassment and bullying. Studies ofperformance in other ethnographic contexts have argued that constructions of sexinessin performance are particularly fraught with risk, especially for female performers, asideas of sexiness are often negotiated against ideas of modesty, appropriateness andsafety (Cowan, 1990; Bridgwood, 1995). Actors and spectators who ‘get it wrong’ inhallway contexts can face social and potentially even legal sanctions.

A common circumstance where performances of sexiness were deemed to have failedoccurred when spectators would interpret a performance as ‘not sexy’. Walking aroundwith other cosplayers I was often privy to whispered conversations about other cosplay-ers, usually unknown to my party who were deemed to be unattractive.

There’re always the girls at cons who you go, in your head, ‘Why? Why?Why did you wear that? You look horrible in that’. (Author’s Interview 2012)

Spectators would commonly claim that they could tell that a cosplayer was trying toproduce as sexual performance but that it did not work. When on one occasion I askedsome spectators how they could tell that the performer was intending to perform sex-iness and their response was merely, ‘You just do.’ The reasons for which spectatorsexplained failed performances of sexiness usually fell into one of two categories. Inthe first type of explanation cosplay performances of sexiness failed because the per-former did not have a physical appearance that conformed to common Western aesthet-ics of beauty or attractiveness, typically cosplayers were considered either too fat or toougly. During my fieldwork I observed that these comments were typically directed to-wards female cosplayers by both male and female cosplayers. These observations reflectwell–established arguments about the gendered nature of the gaze in Western culture,and the public scrutiny of female performers’ bodies (e.g. Cowan (1990); Woodward(2007b)) A full exploration of the relationship between cosplay aesthetics and broader,


non–cosplay understandings of gendered aesthetics is beyond the scope of thesis, but isan aspect of the practice I intend to examine in later writings.

An alternative, more intriguing critique of a sexy cosplay was that the cosplayer was notskilled enough to create a sexy performance.

There’s a whole argument around what you’re trying to portray when youcosplay but if you’re going to be Lara Croft you’re committing to lookingand acting a certain way if you’re going to do that cosplay. You’re goingto wear teeny tiny shorts and you’re going to attempt to randomly seducethings. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

In this instance it is not the physical appearance of the cosplayer that is the target ofcritique by audiences but rather their ability or willingness to perform ‘sexy’ gestures,poses or catchphrases associated with the character. Failed sexiness here is linked withinaccuracy.

A second type of failed performance occurred when cosplayers who were intendingto present non–sexual performances had their performances framed as sexual by audi-ences. The cosplayer intending to create and perform an accurate cosplay may easilyunintentionally create a ‘sexy’ cosplay. As several cosplayers pointed out in interviews,the prevalence of sexualised depictions of both male and female bodies in popular sourcetexts such as anime, manga, Western comics and videogames, meant that it was oftendifficult to find characters who did not wear revealing or eroticised outfits.

An example commonly discussed among the cosplayers I attended conventions with wasthe problem of ‘spandex’. In interview Renee pointed out that Western superheroes suchas “Batman” and “Superman” are beloved characters and popular cosplay inspirationsources. She noted that many superheroes wear skin–tight, body hugging outfits andto recreate that look many cosplayers use spandex and lycra and other figure huggingfabrics which can reveal the contours cosplayer’s body in explicit detail. While thefigure–hugging outfit may be visually accurate to the original character design, viewersof the costume may see the prominence of normally hidden body parts as a form ofsexual display (Author’s Interview 2012).

Encountering spandex–wearing cosplaying bodies for the first time at AVCon, Danielreported that he felt he could not avoid seeing their performances as sexual and felt


confronted by what he saw as a personal sexual display in a public setting: ‘...It was justkind of, put that away!’ (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012). The example of spandexhighlights the ambiguity of the meanings attributed to material items used in cosplayperformances. Corsets and leather were other ambiguous items that were sometimesframed as sexual and in other circumstances not.

Within convention communities there is a view that certain forms of dress can be inter-preted as overtly sexual to a point where it could offend or endanger participants. Con-vention events often attempted to mediate between cosplay understandings of acceptableor desirable costume and more ‘everyday’ or even legal definitions of appropriate dressthrough the publication and enforcement of dress codes for events:

Remember that this is a family oriented event. If it is too risque or deemedinappropriate, you will be withdrawn from the competition and told tochange. If you refuse to do so, you will be removed from the conventionwithout refund.(Supanova Cosplay Competition rules,http://www.supanova.com.au/cosplay, accessed 7/3/2013)

Another form of failed performance occurred when audiences interpreted cosplayers’performances as sexual performances enacted for the sake of ‘getting attention’. AtAVCon I was chatting with a group of cosplayers in a foyer when a trio dressed assome form of Norse or vaguely ‘barbarian’ warriors strode past us. The cosplayers, onemale and two female, wore what can be best described as furry and metallic underwear,high platform stilts covered in fur and carried large prop axes. Their appearances werestriking and detailed. A cosplayer of my own party turned to me and said in referenceto the trio, ‘Oh I just hate that. It’s just so skanky.’ (Author’s Fieldnote 2012)

Perhaps the most potentially problematic failures of sexual performance occurred whencosplayers’ playful performances of ‘sexiness’ were understood by audiences as in-vitations to non–playful sexual interaction. Neither I nor any of the cosplayers withwhom I regularly associated reported experiencing unwanted comments, touching orwere photographed without consent but stories of cosplayers being sexually harassedwere circulated online. A male cosplay photographer even sent me a cartoon ‘cosplaypublic service announcement’ outlining correct and incorrect ways of interacting withcosplayers, especially female cosplayers. In these narratives women were usually por-


trayed as victims and men as the attackers.

Concerns over the safety of cosplayers and other convention–attendees have manifestedthemselves in convention organisers creating behavioural codes of conduct. Recentlytwo forms of physical interaction between cosplayers and spectators have been forbid-den or restricted at several Australian conventions: ‘glomping’, where fans give cosplay-ers unexpected and aggressive embraces, and ‘free hugs’, where convention attendeeswear signs around their necks displaying that they are willing to hug any and all whoapproach them.

Cosplayers who happily identified their cosplays as ‘sexy’ and reported that they en-joyed being considered sexy by spectators still expressed some level of anxiety thattheir performances could attract undesired sexual gazes, comments or behaviour. Mad-die, who was mostly comfortable with spectator attention while volunteering at AV-Con’s maid caf, reported some instances where the attentions of others did make herfeel uneasy:

It was mainly for the photos single guys who were alone and slightlyoverweight, kind of creepy. There was this one guy who was dressed likeHarry Potter and he walked around the whole of AVCon taking photos withevery girl he saw it was so weird! Me and my friends afterwards werelike, “Did Harry Potter come up to you?” And we were like, “yeah”.

(Maddie, Author’s Interview 2010)

Maddie’s narrative provides an important insight into the subtle and shifting boundariesbetween perceptions of ‘appropriate’ and ‘creepy’ gazing and behaviour in conventioncontexts. The actions of the Harry Potter cosplayer, as described by Maddie, seem atfirst to be acceptable within the contexts of conventions; spectators taking photographsof cosplayers is a commonplace activity at conventions and Maddie herself was gen-erally willing to be photographed. However, the perception that the Harry Potter cos-player was only photographing girls and ignoring male cosplayers caused Maddie andher friends to suspect that he was gazing at women as sexual–objects rather than cos-players. Underpinning this anxiety is the fear that convention attendees will mistakeplayful performances for non–play performances (Bateson, 1955). Maddie’s anxietythat single, male spectators will misunderstand the ‘rules’ and transgress the bound-aries between play and ‘everyday life’ was echoed by other cosplayers. As Bateson

6.5. CONCLUSION: FRAMING THE CHAOS 181

(1955) has highlighted, the framing of actions as play or non–play can hinge on theinterpretation of apparently trivial words, stances or gestures. In the playground of con-vention hallways there is always the potential for ‘frame–slippage’ (Goffman, 1981).For cosplayers play can be exciting but socially dangerous as the negotiation of multi-ple framings can be easily mismanaged and participants can feel anxious, humiliated orneglected.

6.5 Conclusion: Framing the Chaos

During my fieldwork cosplayers would regularly send me links to comedy videos cri-tiquing or celebrating cosplay. One of these videos, entitled Comic–Con Cosplay Catas-trophe’, produced by the US–based comedy website CollegeHumor, highlighted thechallenges cosplayers and spectators face in framing performances. The video depictsa fictional Question and Answer session at the end of a panel. The panellists fail toidentify any of the characters portrayed by the cosplayers in audience. The cosplayersare all dressed in hybrid costumes combining two different characters such as “Spider-man” and “Harry Potter”, or Steampunk and gender–flipped alternative versions of thecharacters. Confusion abounds. The failure of the cosplay performances in this fictionalaccount are attributed to the cosplaying performers themselves who have apparentlyfailed to make their costumes recognisable or accurate to audiences. In this video thecosplaying characters are represented as exaggeratedly self–absorbed individuals whoare interested only in self–expression. The cosplayers reference ideas and charactersknown only to themselves:

Cosplayer: This makes sense in my fan fiction. Panellist: Yeah, I haven’tread that.(‘Comic–Con Cosplay Catastrophe’ [CollegeHumor, accessed 10/12/2014])

The video, while unfortunately denigrating alternative forms of cosplay, does howeverhighlight the occasionally chaotic and confusing nature of cosplay performances. Au-diences do not always share or understand the intentions of performers. Many ethno-graphic accounts of performance acts tend to assume that those involved, performersand spectators, have a reasonably strong shared understanding of the forms and mean-ings of the performance. In the past anthropologists have tended to focus on more for-


malised types of performance rituals and traditional forms of theatrical performance.While these performances can be considered liminal or liminoid and contain phases ofstructural inversion and fluidity, they are often, however, highly formalised events withprescribed spaces, durations and roles (Turner, 1979).

Hallway performances, in contrast, can appear rather random and obtuse, even to thoseproducing them. They have no set form or duration. Participants can be spectators in onemoment and performers the next. The stage can be wherever a camera lens is pointed.Like other cultural products of cosplay, hallway performances are assemblages. Per-formers and spectators, texts, narratives and objects, align together for a brief momentin a convention corridor or foyer. More fragile than a hot–glued kimono, these assem-blages may form and disperse in a matter of minutes.

Due to the unstable spatial boundaries, the shifting roles and empherality, framing hall-way performances can be a complex activity. In these temporary assemblages framingis produced in negotiation between spectators and performers. Throughout this chapterI have explored the framing of in–character performances, performances of craftsman-ship and performances of sexiness. In analysing the framing of hallway performancesI have highlighted the ways that performance acts and meaning–making are producedcollaboratively in negotiations between cosplayers, photographers and spectators. Likethe costume objects I have explored in Chapter 4 and the photographs I will explore inChapter 8, hallway performances may have many creators and many audiences.

However, hallway performances can be a source of considerable anxiety. Previous stud-ies of negotiations in social and theatrical performance have identified that polyvalencyand ambiguity can pose social risks to both spectators and performers. In the negotia-tion of multiple roles and frameworks there is always the potential for misinterpretationand slippage. An in–character’ performance can be interpreted as a performance of‘sexiness’; a performance of craftsmanship’ may fail if the cosplayer does not havea narrative of assembly to recount. Hallway performances are always risky perfor-mances.

In some ways hallway performances can be viewed as a microcosm of the practice ofcosplay within Australia, as the production of these performances involve processes ofassembly, negotiation, and distribution. These performances are temporary assemblagesof performers and spectators, roles and framings are produced in negotiation, and the

6.5. CONCLUSION: FRAMING THE CHAOS 183

product the performance is redistributed through photographs and videos as well as thememories and narratives of spectators and performers. Despite the apparent chaos andvariety of convention hallways, practitioners do attempt to frame these performances,although framing in these contexts is a process of constant negotiation.

In this chapter I have explored the complexities of meaning–making in the contexts ofsemi–structured performance contexts. In contrast the following chapter will explorecosplay competitions as a more formalised performance context.

Chapter 7

Performing the Self as CosplayMaster

‘Water is fat! Water is fat!’(Wirru, Manifest Competition Video Author’s Transcript)

Chanting these nonsensical lyrics Australian master cosplayer Wirru energetically dancedacross the stage dressed as “Tidus” from Square’s (2001) role–playing video game Fi-nal Fantasy X. Raising his knees to his chest and punching his arms to the ceiling, heparodied an aerobics workout, keeping time to an audio track with a synthesised basswhich pulsed through the auditorium.

One of his team mates, dressed as “Rikku”, interrupted him suddenly as the backgroundmusic cut out, ‘Stop! I lost my grenade!’ There was a moment’s pause in the action asshe located a prop grenade onstage. Raising the prop to display it to the audience, sheexclaimed, ‘Found it!’ The music started again and the dancing continued. While thisaction would have appeared completely incomprehensible to outsiders, the audience ofthe cosplay competition at Melbourne’s Manifest roared with laughter.

This was the first time I saw Wirru and his companions perform in competition. Watch-ing from the audience I realised I had seen these cosplayers and their costumes beforeat another convention, in another city. They had presented an introductory panel atSMASH in Sydney only a month prior. At that panel they had been acknowledgedas cosplay masters, experienced practitioners who could explain ‘how to cosplay’ to

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186 CHAPTER 7. PERFORMING THE SELF AS COSPLAY MASTER

newcomers and outsiders. Here, these cosplayers were enacting a different kind of per-formance and putting their skills and costume objects forward for evaluation by judgesand the audience.

Despite being a newcomer to the practice with only two conventions under my belt,I could tell that these were costumes produced by experienced cosplayers. The com-petitors’ costumes were both accurate and detailed. The colours and textures of theirgarments mimicked the clothing of their digital counterparts. On the competitors’ bod-ies the outfits recreated the proportions of the characters’ clothing with near exacti-tude.

The skit they presented was a self–described ‘warm–up exercise’ for Blitzball, a fic-tional sport depicted in Final Fantasy X. Lasting around three minutes, the performancewas a highly energetic dance and chanting routine, a remix of the ‘YES’ dance videomeme, created by comedian Robert J. Hoffman III. The original video bore no rela-tionship, intertextual or otherwise, to the Final Fantasy canon but was instead a filmedcomedy performance which had been shared among online communities.

In their performance the cosplayers blended elements of both Final Fantasy X and the‘YES’ video. The competitors recreated and enacted the choreography of the videoand used the same backing track. However, the dialogue of performance was altered toreference the videogame with the use of character names, the incorporation of character–appropriate props such as the grenade, and the framing of the dance as a ‘Blitzballwarm–up exercise’. Much of the humour of the skit was derived from the deliberatejuxtaposition of characters from an epic, apocalyptic fantasy game re–enacting a surrealand high camp dance routine.

Watching this bizarre and highly energised performance, the audience laughed andcheered. Some spectators used their smart phones and cameras to video the performancewhile many others captured the performers using still photography. The performance ofWirru and his team was not only witnessed by those present at the competition but wasrecorded and uploaded online for a broader audience.

This chapter focuses on a very different type of cosplay performance context, the cos-play competition.

187

Competitions feature at every anime, manga and videogame convention in Australia,as well as at major popular culture conventions such as Supanova and Armageddon.Smaller events such as cosplay meet–ups and parties may also feature cosplay compe-titions. In the Australian scene competitions can be divided into two broad types: daycompetitions which are held at local conventions and consist of only one round or heat,and multiple round competitions, the heats of which may be held at different conven-tions throughout the country, leading up to a Grand Final event. At time of writing oneof the most prominent multiple–round competitions in Australia is the Madman Na-tional Cosplay Championship (MNCC), a competition that holds preliminary rounds atthe Melbourne, Gold Coast, Sydney and Perth Supanova Expos, Adelaide’s AVCon anda grand final held at the Brisbane Supanova Expo. A convention such as AVCon mayplay host to both types of competition, staging a heat of the MNCC on the first day ofthe convention and a day competition on the second. Newcomers to the community maybe surprised by the lengthy duration of the competitions. With often over fifty entrantsto a day competition the event can stretch on for several hours.

In these highly structured events competitors participate in two distinct genres of per-formance, the interview and the skit, and compete to be recognised as masters. In thischapter I explore how, through assemblages of dress, improvisatory verbal performanceand structured skits, competitors attempt to perform themselves as the embodiment ofcosplay mastery, presenting both their technical competence and their adherence to com-munity values ethics and aesthetics. To achieve the quality of mastery competitors mustproduce a ‘coherent’ (Goffman, 1990) performance; the performer’s dress, verbal narra-tion and/or skit must combine in a way that is aligned and meaningful for the audience.In their Manifest performance, Wirru and friends assembled visually accurate costumes,skilfully combined language and visual elements from two contrasting texts. For thisperformance they were feted by the audience and awarded first prize.

I will argue further that in order to demonstrate true mastery competitors must not onlyachieve coherence in their presentation of self but they must successfully and publiclynegotiate cosplay community values, especially the values of creativity, accuracy andamateurism, and render these values as coherent for the audience. In their narratives,dress and embodied performance, competitors must enact and negotiate often inherentlycontradictory values demonstrating both accuracy and creativity, competency and hu-mility. To do this competitors employ a number of strategies including humour and


intertextuality.

Cosplay masters are masters of assemblage. They are able to embody and render coher-ent the values of cosplay in their material performances. However, the self as master isalso a distributed self (Gell, 1998). It is assembled in performance and then re–mediatedand distributed to the wider community in the form of photographs and videos. Theirmastery is made available for the consumption of a wider cosplaying public, beyondthe temporal and spatial confines of the competition event. Masters are not only cre-ated but recreated as cosplay masters’ performances, skills and even created objects aredistributed within the community.

Over the course of my fieldwork I attended over twenty cosplay competitions in person,competed in three and viewed many more on video. The data discussed in this chap-ter is drawn from my video recordings and transcripts of competition performances. Iwill restrict my focus to onstage performance moments in cosplay competitions, whathappens when a competitor clambers onstage in oversized shoes to face the expectantcrowd, their strategies of self–presentation and their public attempts to negotiate variouscontradictory values associated with cosplay. Many of the activities associated with cos-play competitions take place offstage: organising committees plan and stage the event,competitors assemble their costumes and rehearse skits, competitors, judges and spec-tators travel to the events, sometimes spending days in interstate road travel. However,here I am concerned with action performed onstage: what competitors look like, whatthey say and what they do, how they attempt to perform themselves as masters. Theseare the moments by which competitors are supposed to be evaluated by judges and arealso the moments that are seen, captured and recorded by audience members.

7.1 The Assemblage, Negotiation and Distribution of Mas-tery

As outlined in Chapter 3, within Australian communities of practice there are cosplay-ers who are recognised as masters, experienced practitioners of high status who haveincreased capacity to influence other cosplayers within their communities and poten-tially the wider practice. While many terms can be used to describe these individuals

7.1. MASTERY 189

I will here refer to them as ‘masters’ as the terms ‘master’ and ‘mastery’ are regularlyused within Australian cosplay communities to denote elite practitioners and excellencein cosplay. The terms have historical overtones as they were traditionally used in En-glish to refer to a fully competent craft practitioner who had been admitted to a guild(Epstein, 1998). These historical connotations are occasionally referenced explicitly,as in the competitions held by the Australian Costumers’ Guild where competitors aredivided into ‘Novice’, ‘Journeyman’ and ‘Master’ classes.

However, unlike the historical craft guild system where practitioners advanced througha series of predetermined roles according to strict rules and conditions, the career pro-gression of a cosplayer from novice to master is far from formalised.

What are the ingredients of a cosplay champion? I feel the ingredientsfor a cosplay champion is the combination of different things. They canpresent themselves very well onstage; they can present themselves verywell offstage as well; that they can be an ambassador for the art formthat is cosplay. They can promote themselves heavily, promote how todo cosplay better, encourage others to join in and to do skits quite wellas well as costuming. So it’s a combination of everything you do in cos-play. So it’s the finer details that make you a really good champion.

(Sly, MNCC 2011 Judges’ Interview Video Author’s Transcript)

This comment by Sly, a regular judge of Australia’s most prestigious cosplay competi-tion the MNCC, emphasises several key ideas about cosplay mastery. Firstly, mastery isa ‘combination’, or assemblage of competencies. Masters must be highly competent at avariety of technical skills. This includes both craft skills such as dress–making, armourconstruction or makeup, and performance skills such as oration, bodily movement andcomportment and improvisation.

In competition the skill–level of a cosplayer is read from their performance. Competi-tors’ onstage performances act as ‘indexes’ (Gell, 1998) of the competitor’s ongoingoffstage life as a cosplayer. Competition performances are both the product and enact-ment of countless hours of planning, assembly and rehearsal. The onstage assemblageof costume, skit and interview collectively enacts and represents the competitor’s effort,skills, and relationships with other cosplayers and the community. Competition as-semblages act as ‘cultural biographies’ (Kopytoff, 1986; Hoskins, 1998) for individual


competitors. As discussed in the previous chapter, the idea that effort, skill and intentioncan be read from a costume or performance is widespread throughout the communities.In competition contexts, this idea is reified as judges are expected to be able to evaluatethe quality of a cosplay performance from the observation of costumes, portfolios andperformances.

However, cosplay competitions are not solely focused around the evaluation of individ-ual practitioners. Competitions can be considered as reflexive performances in the senseof Turner and Schechner (1988) as these highly structured events are set apart frommore everyday cosplay activities and allow cosplay communities to recreate and dis-cuss key values. Competitors and their performances here become focal points aroundwhich notions of cosplay are discussed and evaluated. Ethnographic studies of simi-lar individualised aesthetic competitions such as beauty pageants have emphasised howcontestants can come to materialise and represent both community aesthetics and moralvalues (Rogers, 1998; Schulz, 2000). Contestants themselves act as ‘indexes’ for com-munity values that exist beyond the framing of the competition (Rogers, 1998, p.63).Cosplay masters are ‘indexes’ (Gell, 1998) of community–specific notions of ‘goodcosplay.’

Goffman (1990) argues that in presenting public performances individuals attempt toconform to expected community values established by the frame, a cosplayer attemptsto be a model cosplayer. To be successful in this all aspects of presentation, dress,comportment and speech, must cohere to these values (Goffman, 1990). This notion of‘expressive coherence’ is echoed in the judge’s statement that cosplay champion is astatus is achieved through ‘... a combination of everything you do in cosplay.’

However, as previous chapters have demonstrated, the qualities of ‘good’ cosplay ac-curacy, completism, spectacle, amateurism and creativity are nebulous and contestedwithin the community. For competitors achieving Goffman’s (1990) ‘expressive co-herence’ can be challenging. Ethnographies of dress, theatrical and ritual performancehave argued that these performative activities require individuals to negotiate contradic-tory cultural values (Cowan, 1990; Hansen, 2005; Woodward, 2007b). In contrast tothe negotiations undertaken in hallway performances described in Chapter 6, cosplayersparticipating in competitions must negotiate values of amateurism, accuracy and cre-ativity within the framing boundaries of the more tightly structured performance formsof interview and skit. Within the confines of a three to ten minute onstage presentation

7.1. MASTERY 191

cosplay masters not only demonstrate their competency at community–specific skillsbut also demonstrate that they can successfully assemble and negotiate community val-ues.

However, cosplay mastery is not only assembled in performance it is distributed. Re-ferring again to the judge’s comment it is evident that masters have increased capacityto influence other cosplayers within their communities and potentially the wider prac-tice. Cosplay masters are participants with high community profiles. They can be seenregularly, competing in competitions, presenting panels and web tutorials. Their cos-tumes and performances are regularly photographed and videoed, and these images aredistributed through prominent community websites. Wirru and his team members wereregular competitors at competitions I observed throughout my fieldwork. They werepanellists at multiple conventions. Their images were displayed on Madman Entertain-ment’s website and in calendars. Master cosplayers organise events, present panels,judge competitions, provide tutorials and mentor others.

Although participating in competitions is not essential for achieving mastery in cosplay,competitions can provide cosplayers with the opportunity to win recognition and expo-sure in a public and spectacular fashion. Bauman (1975) has argued that performanceshave the potential to transform social positions, and in cosplay competitions successfulcompetitors have the opportunity to gain the status of masters. Competitions at largeevents are attended by hundreds of audience members. Competitions are photographedand often filmed and images and recordings of competitions are displayed online. Win-ning can bring prizes, and even more opportunities to be photographed and promotedonline with winners of competitions such as MNCC heats regularly being the subject ofspecial photo shoots and videos. Even competing can bring kudos, especially in ‘seri-ous’ competitions such as the MNCC where contestants must submit a portfolio onlinebefore they can be approved for entry into the heats. During and after competitionevents I regularly observed conversations of spectators discussing whether a particularcompetitor was considered ‘good enough’ to compete. As I will discuss further in thischapter, winning was far from the only means of achieving master status through com-petitions as audiences regularly feted non–winning cosplayers and promoted their famethrough the distribution of images and videos of their performances.


7.2 Competition Events and the Performance of Com-munity Values

Public performance events like cosplay competitions can be used as a means of debatingor reaffirming community values (Bauman, 1975; Turner, 1979; Cowan, 1990; Ahearn,2012). According to Turner’s (1979) concept of ‘reflexive performance’, performancescan provide communities or societies with an opportunity to stand apart from everydaytime and action and reflect on key ideas and values. As events where ‘good’ cosplayis defined and ‘master cosplayers’ are identified and awarded, competitions are perfor-mance activities which are explicitly centred upon evaluation and defining the nature ofcosplay.

Turner (1979) argues that in order for performances to be able to comment reflexivelyon community values they need to be framed as separate from everyday life. ‘To look atitself a society must cut out a piece of itself for inspection’, (Turner, 1979, p.468). Thisframing can be constructed through space (Cowan, 1990; Ahearn, 2012). In contrastto the performance activities described in the previous chapter, the spaces, durationsand actions of cosplay competitions are more formally structured. The space in whichcosplay competitions take place is usually, quite literally, a theatre be it a traditional hallcomplete with proscenium arch or the main lecture theatre of a convention centre.

In contrast to the more fluid spaces used for hallway performances explored in Chapter6, competition theatres follow a highly–structured traditional Western model as thereis a designated ‘stage’ area which is separate from, and visible to the audience. Thisvisibility is usually achieved by the stage being a raised platform with stairs. These canoften pose some serious challenges for cosplayers in bulky, wide or restrictive costumes.Towards the back of the stage there is usually a multimedia screen which allows compe-tition organisers to display images, text and video as a backdrop to the cosplayers.

For the duration of the competition there is a clear demarcation between audience spaceand performance space. The audience in their area are expected to be seated, facing thestage and quiet, except when noise is considered appropriate. At several competitionscompetitors may be seated in the audience space before and after their performancemoment, requiring them to move between audience and performance areas. When com-petitors are seated in the audience there is an expectation that they will adopt the role

7.2. COMPETITION EVENTS 193

and behaviours of an audience member. There are others who may also move freely be-tween audience and performance spaces such as the host and volunteers assisting withtechnical support. Privileged photographers who may have permission to move out oftheir seats are still typically dissuaded from entering the stage.

To further establish the framing of the reflexive performance as separate to the flow ofeveryday life, participants may adopt more formalised roles for the duration of the event(Bauman, 1975; Turner, 1979). There are numerous roles undertaken by participants ina cosplay competition and participants may move between these roles during the courseof the competition. Movement between these roles is generally of a more restrictednature in than in hallway performances. Certain roles, like those of the host or judgesare fixed throughout the duration of the competition.

The Audience

Competition audiences are comprised of convention attendees, volunteers, non–competingcosplayers, and, through the increasing use video–recording and online live–streaming,viewers of the competition who may not even be present in the physical or temporalspace of the competition event. An audience for a competition may be comprised ofhundreds, even thousands of people. Those wishing to attend the physical event oftenhave to queue for up to an hour to get a seat.

The Competitors

Competitors at a day competition may range in their level of skill and experience. Theymay be competing as an individual, or as a team or part of a group. Day competitionstypically offer multiple sections and prizes for craftsmanship, performance or best all–rounder and may be stratified in terms of ability. At convention day competitions thosecompeting for different prizes are not separated but instead all competitors are presentedone after the other in a predetermined numerical order. A novice may therefore appearbetween two experienced cosplayers and skits may be positioned at any time throughoutthe competition at the organisers’ desire.

The Host

The host(s) or MC plays a key role in most competitions. Out of all the performers theyspend the longest amount of time onstage and are usually necessarily to facilitate thesmooth running of competition processes. The host’s typical role is to introduce and/or


interview the cosplayers, communicate with the judges, and usually to fill time withhumorous antics (joking, singing, dancing, even acrobatics) when there is a technicalhitch or delay.

The Judges

Typically judges are senior members of the community: experienced cosplayers (includ-ing previous winners), representatives of the sponsors of the competition, or conventionorganisers. The judges are usually seated separately from the rest of the audience, oftenat their own table or desk. Depending on the competition the judges may play a more orless visible role during the competition. In some instances judges are interviewed by thehosts, at others judges themselves will publicly question or interview the competitors.Occasionally the judges make no comment throughout the entire proceedings. At somecompetitions, often those which are more prestigious, the primary work of the judgesactually takes place before the competition where competitors are prejudged “offstage”in a different venue inaccessible to the audience where the judges have an opportunityto question participants in depth and observe workmanship up close.

The Technical Support

These volunteers and convention organisers run the sound, media, stage set up and film-ing of the competition. Those assisting with sound, lighting and media are usuallypositioned at various desks throughout the convention space. If the competition is run-ning smoothly they are expected to be an invisible presence. In the case of technicaldifficulties these people can suddenly come into prominence and may enter the stage, orbe addressed directly by the host.

The Photographers

Photographers may also be members of the audience but there are usually some privi-leged groups of photographers whose primary purpose at the event is to photograph thecompetition. This group may include the convention’s official photographers, the com-petition’s official photographers, or photographers from external media outlets. Thesephotographers are given special access to spaces in front of the stage and can movearound the theatre. Their privileged status is usually objectified and displayed in theform of a ‘media pass’ worn around their neck on a lanyard.

From my fieldwork observations I identified four different flows of action that typically

7.2. COMPETITION EVENTS 195

occurred at Australian cosplay competitions. These different types of cosplay compe-tition performance could take place within the same competition or alternatively thecompetition could feature only one type of performance:

Types of performance action in the temporal sequence that they occur:

• The contestant is announced by the host; the contestant enters the stage, posesfor photographs and exits the stage. This type of performance is typical at eventswith a short running time or at ‘parade’ style events.

• The contestant is announced; the contestant enters the stage, poses for photographs,is interviewed by the host and exits the stage. This process is usually observableat day competitions.

• The contestant is announced; the contestant enters the stage, performs a skit, posesfor photographs and exits the stage. This is a common process for skit competitorsat large day competitions.

• The contestant is announced; the contestant enters the stage, performs a skit, isinterviewed by the host, poses for photographs and exits the stage. Due to timeconstraints this pattern of action is used infrequently at day competitions and isthe standard process at the Madman National Championship rounds.

The use of formal spaces, roles, and flows of action serve to create a performance at-mosphere conducive to community reflexivity. Through the deliberate and extensivestructuring of the event, audience attention can be focused on the cosplayers as indi-vidual competitors, highlighted and separated from the wider community. Unlike thehallway contexts of Chapter 6, here there are no questions as to who is the audience andwho is the performer.

To be evaluated with the chance of achieving mastery, competitors have to step out ofthe crowds and put themselves onstage in front of over a hundred spectators. Theircostume, skit and interview performances are highlighted through spatial separationand lighting. In several competitions, live video footage of the action is projected ontoscreens, allowing the audiences to see details and close–ups. An audience member canpotentially see more than they normally would from the distance of their seat. Thesefeatures emphasise the fact that it is the visual impact of the cosplayer, their props,sets and costumed body, that is considered the most important aspect of a competition


entry.

However, as in many other contexts throughout the practice, the visual performance ofcosplay costumes is accompanied by a verbal narrative or performance. In cosplay com-petitions competitors are judged on both craftsmanship and performance of character.These aspects are emphasised in two performance genres formalised in competitions:the interview which enables the competitor to narrate the offstage assembly of theircostume; and the skit which requires the cosplayer to present a prepared ‘in–character’performance.

7.3 Interviews

At the Grand Final of the 2010 Madman National Championship in Brisbane, Wirrustands onstage as “Siegfried” from the videogame Soulcalibur IV. Despite the humidityhe is dressed in an elaborate suit of ice blue armour. Wing–like protrusions extend fromhis shoulders and he carries a giant prop sword which is transparent like an oversizedshard of ice. The cosplayer audibly pants as the host holds a microphone under hischin.

Host: Okay what are you made of? What have we got here?

W: Death. Well I am made of expanded PVC sheets and plastic and Perspexand fibreglass and resin and paper clay.

Host: This is great man! And hold on...

W: Yes... and hand altered chain mail.(MNCC Final 2010 Video Author’s Transcript)

In this next section of the chapter I will analyse two kinds of performance activities com-monly undertaken at cosplay competitions: the interview and the skit. In performingboth interview and skit competitors attempt to embody qualities of mastery and negoti-ate contradictory values. The interview is a particular genre of cosplay performance, a

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form of ‘verbal art’ (Bauman, 1975) with its own forms and stylistic techniques. Theseinterviews do not necessarily serve to assist the judging process as competitors are al-most always required to submit this kind of information in forms and portfolios to com-petition organisers some weeks prior to the competition date. Instead these interviewscan be considered part of the cosplay performance. They serve to entertain and educatethe audience and provide insights into the creation of the costume.

Like the interviews in beauty pageants as described by Rogers (1998) and Schulz (2000),these performed narratives enable the competitor to strategically present themselvesfor an audience and also provide the audience with another means by which they canevaluate the competitor. Bauman (1975) has argued that the delivery of performativeverbal narratives requires considerable skill on the part of the performer. Failure todeliver the narrative in a compelling and contextually appropriate manner can result inan unsuccessful performance no matter how compelling the content (Bauman, 1975).Competition interviews pose additional challenges for performers as they require thecompetitor to memorise possible answers and/or improvise answers onstage (Rogers,1998, p.68).

Most cosplay interview narratives describe the processes of transformation of objects.Through the use of questioning, the host or judge attempts to elicit the story of the cos-tume the cosplayer is wearing, how and why it was created. Shankar (2006) has arguedthat verbal narratives about objects and objectifications can be used by individuals as ameans of potentially enhancing personal status within a community. In their narrativesof cosplay assembly competitors attempt to articulate the effort and love that has goneinto the costumes they are wearing. Through their responses to questions, cosplayersverbally connect their onstage presentation with offstage processes and labour that areinvisible to competition audiences and judges. In their stories of objectification pro-cesses cosplayers strategically present themselves as competent amateurs, deserving ofattention and acclaim for their loving efforts.

As an audience member at the Madman National Cosplay Championship Grand Finalin Brisbane, I was amazed by a strikingly tall female cosplayer who was dressed as thevillainous character Cain Nightroad from the anime series Trinity Blood. Arrayed inbronze and white, carrying a massive prop mace which was taller than head height, shehad six feathered wings attached to her back which was further decorated by a bronze,spiked wheel which acted somewhat like a halo or aureole in religious iconography. At


the centre of this halo was a genuine sheep’s skull. I was dazzled by her visual appear-ance and genuinely astounded that an amateur could create such a striking and appar-ently gravity–defying costume. During the competition the cosplayer was interviewedabout her costume, in particular the decorations on her back:

Host: Tell us about the wheel on your back.

A: The wheel on my back?

Host: It’s not a wheel I know. I don’t know what it is; it’s just awesome.

A: Ah, my halo of spiky awesomeness?

Host: Oh, that’s the technical name? That’s awesome! Okay, your halo ofspiky awesomeness, what are we dealing with there?

A: It’s actually made out of Tooheys poster board. Tooheys beer, good stuff.(MNCC Final 2010 Video Author’s Transcript)

The audience and host laughed at this revelation. The original material, the Toohey’sposter board, has been so transformed by the cosplayer that it is completely invisibleto the audience, even with telephoto lenses. It is only through the verbal description ofthe costume that the audience is able to simultaneously picture two different visions ofthe object as halo of spiky awesomeness and as beer advertising cardboard. The trans-formation of the object from the mundane to the spectacular has been effected by thecosplayer and the audience knows this: the ‘halo of spiky awesomeness’ is surroundedby a ‘halo–effect of technical difficulty’ (Gell, 1999, p.46).

In this interview the ‘complete’ visual look of the cosplay is reversed or undone. Nor-mally a costume is viewed as a whole but in interview the host typically draws atten-tion to specific parts of the costume, individual props. It is only through this verbaldeconstruction of the costume as performed by host and cosplayer that the efforts ofthe cosplayer are properly understood. Drawing on Gell’s (1998) ‘duree’, the offstage

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construction performances of the cosplayer are temporally transposed onto the stageduring the interview. The distributed cosplay object of construction, costume, bodilyperformance and oration comes together for a brief moment during the performanceevent.

Discussion of the use of mundane or surprising objects in cosplay costumes is a commontheme in interviews. In this example the host questions a cosplayer about the feet of herrobot–cat suit:

Host: Tell me about your big feet, what are they made of?

P: Camping foam mats and those ABC mats you get for little kids.

Host: Fantastic. There’s a child wondering where its toys have gone![crowd laughs] That is awesome!

(Supanova Melbourne Competition 2012 Video Author’s Transcript)

The joke made by the host explicitly reminds the audience of the alternative, mundanepurposes of the mats. The interplay between contestant and host portrays the cosplayeras a master bricoleur (Levi-Strauss, 1966) who will re–fashion and re–purpose any ob-ject for cosplay construction. Everyday objects can be used to create cosplays and so canmundane techniques. In this example a contestant wearing impressive samurai–inspiredarmour describes her chain mail:

Host: But take us through things like the pants and of course this wonderfulchain mail here and the chain mail on your arm please...

M: Okay... this is made from those flexible, roll up cutting boards andthe chain mail is knitted [Host is laughing]. So yeah, you don’t haveto spend a lot to look like this if you wanted to [cheers from crowd].

(MNCC Final 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

Minutes before the cosplayer had been in–character, performing energetic martial artsmovements, her performance and costume aggressive and martial. Now, in the interviewthe host and audience are presented with the (humorous) idea of knitted armour. In the


same interview the contestant also made the following remark about a gigantic roboticprop:

M: This took me three months to make, mostly out of cardboard. So yeah,you can make something really amazing out of something really dodgy ifyou just put in the time. [audience laughs and cheers]

(MNCC Final 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

Throughout the interview the contestant verbally expressed the idea that this transfor-mative power could be within the reach of other cosplayers in the audience. However,onstage she did not elaborate on the particular processes, the tools and skills she used inthis transformation. Cosplayers in the audience, including me, could only guess at howshe had assembled gauntlets out of cutting boards, robots out of cardboard and disguisedthe original nature of the materials beyond perception.

Cosplay assembly narratives often obfuscated the process rather than clarified it. Indeeda common response for cosplayers to give when interviewed about their construction isto provide a straight list of the materials used:

Host: Now let’s see; let us go through the actual outfit. Tell us, tell us allabout it.

DR: [Begins pulling up her skirt. Host makes a show of averting his eyes.]There’s bloomers and a hoop petticoat, a tulle petticoat, I have a silk skirtwith fabric I got in Vietnam. It’s two and a half circular skirts so it comesup to about [gestures over her head] here if I lift it. This lacy stuff I got inKuala Lumpur. The main feature is all the lace on the bodice which I madeby hand. (MNCC Final 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

Listing materials and all the component parts the cosplayers provide audiences withan insight into the various objects comprising the cosplay but no hint as to how theyachieved the spectacular visual effects using these items. The audience is left with theimpression that the cosplayer has a talent for transformation, is skilled with workingwith different materials and above all has put an immense amount of ‘effort’ into thecostume.

7.3. INTERVIEWS 201

If audiences are not already impressed by the contestant’s ability to transform junk intospectacular cosplays, there are some interview narratives that go beyond normal re-counts of costume construction, portraying the process as an epic, an extraordinary feat.Okabe (2012, p.240) in his exploration of Japanese cosplayers identifies ‘cosplay ver-sions of heroic tales’ circulating among the community wherein the cosplayer displayssome ‘extraordinary effort’ to create or wear their costume. The kinds of narrativesOkabe records bear a striking similarity to heroic cosplay narratives told in Australiancosplay competitions. In interaction with the host the cosplayers utilise rhetorical strate-gies such as building suspense in order to portray cosplay construction as an even moredifficult or mythic process.

Alternatively cosplayers may describe their processes with dramatic understatement. Acosplayer at a day competition at Supanova Melbourne used this technique to emphasisehis amazing skill and speed at prop creation. The contestant walked onstage carryinga prop katana that was taller than himself. It was accurately recreated with an elegantcurved blade and tsuka ito–style cord wrappings around the tang.

H: Tell us about the sword, obviously...

A: Thursday afternoon.

H: What? [a pause as the contestant smiles] What?

A: I did this on Thursday afternoon. It’s a record–breaking ten dollars spenton this. [crowd cheers] And it’s my second largest prop.

H: Yeah. It’s awesome.(Supanova Melbourne Competition 2012 Video Author’s Transcript)

The juxtaposition between the beautiful presentation of the prop and the understatementof the contestant’s verbal delivery emphasised the creation of the sword as a heroiccosplay feat, achievable only by a highly experienced cosplayer.

During interviews cosplayers will often verbally describe the process of cosplay con-struction in a humorous manner that depicts costume construction as a crazy or violent


process. Sometimes these descriptions are given while the cosplayer is ‘in–character’,the cosplayer describes the construction process in the way their character might achieveit or describe it, as in the following excerpt from the interview with the Cain Nightroadcosplayer:

Host: That’s a real skull! This is awesome! Where did you pick up theskull?

A: Glen Innes [a NSW country town]. It’s a small country town about tenhours train ride from Sydney.

Host: You didn’t kill it, did you?

A: Course I did!

Host: [pointing at lance] With that?

A: No, with my bare hands and teeth. It’s the only way to go! [crowdlaughs] (MNCC Final 2011 Video Author’s Transcript)

Together the host and cosplayer jokingly create a narrative fiction that the cosplayer inthe personality of the violent, fratricidal “Cain Nightroad” physically and brutally killeda sheep as part of the construction process. The framing of the character’s responseas an ‘in–character’ performance fictionalises the assembly process and distances thecompetitor from her narrative of construction.

Why do cosplayers employ these varied rhetorical strategies in interviews? In theirnarratives of assembly cosplayers attempt to strategically present themselves as compe-tent and, above all, dedicated practitioners who have devoted time, effort, and moneyto the creation of their costumes. However, in presenting these narratives competitorsmust also be careful not to alienate judges and audiences by engaging in overt self–aggrandisement. As discussed in the previous chapter, cosplayers are at risk of critiqueif their motives for participating are deemed to be impure, if their performance is inter-

7.3. INTERVIEWS 203

preted as attention–seeking.

In the view of many cosplayers and spectators competing to win was portrayed as con-trary to the value of amateurism. In interview experienced competitor Jenita argued thatcosplayers should compete out of love for the character and their craft and that thosewho participated only in order to win would be ultimately disappointed. In Jenita’sview, cosplayers who performed for recognition would be dissatisfied if that recog-nition was not forthcoming whereas cosplayers who performed for other motivationswould enjoy the experience regardless of the outcome. Some cosplayers even viewedcompetitions more generally as a threat to the purity of the practice and announced withpride that they had never taken part, or if they had competed initially had now renouncedcompeting.

As theorists have argued, verbal performances can require highly strategic self–presentationson the part of the performer (Bauman, 1975; Goffman, 1990).

Spinning out their tellings through choice of words, degree of elaboration,attribution of causality and sequentiality, and the foregrounding and back-grounding of emotions, circumstances, and behavior, narrators build novelunderstandings of themselves–in–the–world. (Ochs and Capps (1996, p.22))

In interviews competitors must strategically negotiate their presentation of selves asboth skilful craftspeople and amateurs who have assembled their costumes and perfor-mances as an expression of love for character, text, or technique. Scholars of dress prac-tices have highlighted how practitioners must balance the multiple meanings of dress asa text (Bridgwood, 1995; Durham, 1999; Woodward, 2007b); here the balancing mustalso be enacted in speech. The use of humour, exaggeration, casual understatement andin–character framing, enable competitors to appear relatable to the audience and de-flect attention from the competitive aspects of the performance. The narrative emphasison the use of mundane and cheap materials achieves a double effect of presenting thecosplayer as approachable, sharing the concerns of other cosplayers, and showcasingtheir unique transformative skill. In improvised interview responses cosplayers mustessentially boast of their personal competences, yet maintain a humble, relatable de-meanour.


7.4 Skits

Cosplayers must also negotiate and reify conflicting community values in the other ma-jor type of formal performance found in competitions, the skit. Competitors may show-case their crafting talents through the materiality of their costume and the impact of theirinterview narrative, but in order to win at major competitions like the MNCC they alsohave to demonstrate their theatrical competences. Skit performances enable cosplayersto showcase their ability to enact the character, connect with the audience, and reveala deep understanding or affinity for the source text or character. These performancescan be highly varied with the incorporation of different performance media includingmime, singing, acrobatics, dance, puppetry and animation. Skits are usually plannedand rehearsed and are therefore much less improvisatory than interview narratives. Likecosplay costumes, skit performances act as an index of countless hours of backstagework undertaken by the cosplayer.

In the skits I witnessed during fieldwork competitors either attempted to accurately‘recreate’ a scene, sequence or moment from the text, or they attempted to ‘remix’elements from one key text with another, often unrelated text. The performance ofboth ‘recreation’ and ‘remix’ require the competitor to enact and negotiate communityvalues, particularly the values of accuracy and creativity. As the following examplesof skits performed by Wirru in the MNCC will demonstrate, ‘recreation’ skits requirecreativity on the part of the performer in order to accurately remediate a text, and, con-versely, ‘remix’ skits rely on the performer’s ability to accurately recreate details tocreate an innovative and successful juxtaposition between two referenced texts.

Dressed as “Seigfried” at the MNCC Grand Final in 2010, Wirru attempted to recreatea scene from the game Soul Calibur V onstage. Wirru’s skit recreated a climactic scenein which “Seigfried” confronts his evil alter–ego “Nightmare” and, in an extremelyconvoluted plot twist, ends up killing an earlier version of himself in order to defeatNightmare.

Recreation performances, like cosplay costumes, involve the translation or remediationof a text in one form, for example a comic, film or videogame, into another, a live the-atrical skit. As with the costume assembly process described in Chapter 4, the copyinghere is a creative process; the recreated elements of the skit are created through inno-

7.4. SKITS 205

vative choices made by the cosplayer. The cosplayer must recreate images and actionsusing whatever performative means they can devise acting and mime, pre–recordedaudio and video, props and sets.

In his Soul Calibur skit Wirru represented three different characters onstage even thoughhe was the only performer physically present. In his detailed fibreglass armour, Wirruused his own costumed body to portray “Seigfried” from Soul Calibur V. Wirru ani-mated his costume further by recreating the character’s poses and movement throughmiming his actions. The character’s voice was represented by a recording of Wirru’svoice recreating the game’s dialogue in the original Japanese. The character of “Night-mare” was recreated through recorded dialogue, also performed by Wirru, and animatedvideo footage projected on a screen. In interview Wirru revealed that he had recreatedthe game’s animation himself, with the assistance of a friend. An earlier version of theSeigfried character was represented onstage by a handcrafted, human–sized mannequinwhich was statically posed kneeling in the centre of the stage. Like Wirru himself, themannequin was dressed in an elaborate costume, complete with gauntlets, sword andmatching blond wig. These techniques were all used in other skits I witnessed wherecosplayers used film clips, mannequins, or puppetry to represent other characters.

The flow of the narrative was recreated visually onstage through mime performed byWirru and animated footage displayed onscreen, and aurally through the use of pre–recorded sound. Japanese language dialogue from the game was recreated using thecosplayer’s own voice. The audio presentation also included pre–recorded music. In hisonstage interview Wirru revealed he had personally transcribed music from the gameand then recorded a live performance of the music using an orchestra from his old highschool.

This performance won Wirru the MNCC for 2010. However, I throughout my field-work I witnessed other recreation performances which were not as successful. In manyinstances in these skits the costumes and props used by the performers did not accu-rately recreate the visual elements of the text; they were unrecognisable to audiencesand judges.

However, performances which included visually accurate elements but did not use cre-ative means to recreate the text in performance also failed to produce a strongly positiveresponse from the audience or impress the judges. In one instance South Australian


cosplayer Miss Ollie performed at the 2011 MNCC final dressed in a highly accuratecostume inspired by the manga, Princess Jellyfish (Higashimura, 2008). The cosplayerhad included tiny subtle details such as nail art, white pearling on a white tutu, tinytentacle–shaped decorations, all of which were invisible to the sight of the average au-dience member. Miss Ollie performed on a bare stage, with no props or set, to anaudio–recording of accurately recreated dialogue from the anime–adaptation. The lackof strong visual elements in her skit seemed to cause the audience to disengage. Theaudience, who had been loud and enthusiastic in their appreciation for the previouscontestant, who had been accompanied by a giant prop robot, were quieter and sub-dued.

In another instance Jenita, a competitor in the MNCC in 2009, assembled a beautifullydetailed and proportioned robot costume inspired by Studio Ghibli’s (1986) anime film,Laputa, Castle in the Sky. This costume was showcased on several sites online and waswell–known by cosplayers in Adelaide who praised its scale and accuracy in interviewsand casual conversations. However, Jenita did not win the championship. At a panelat AVCon in 2010 Jenita attributed her lack of success to the nature of the costume,which although visually accurate prevented her from moving easily. Her inability tomove around the stage restricted the story she could present onstage and meant that herperformance was viewed as too static with little drama.

Returning to Goffman’s (1990) notion of coherence, the success or failure of a recreationcosplay skit appears to hinge on the cosplayer’s ability to assemble all the elements ofthe performance. Coherence here does not involve a strict mimicry of the original work.This would be impossible as the performance is a remediation. Instead, performersachieve coherence by successfully negotiating accuracy and innovation.

The success of a recreation cosplay skit relies heavily both upon the cosplayers’ abilitiesto create visually identifiable representations of the character through costume and em-bodied performance, and upon spectators possessing an understanding of the characters’personalities, trademark poses and phrases and their relation to other characters and thenarrative of the text. The performer must be skilled enough to create a visually identi-fiable performance and the spectator must be knowledgeable enough to understand andinterpret the performance.

At the final of the MNCC in 2013, however, Wirru presented a very different remix–style

7.4. SKITS 207

skit. Performing as superhero character “Origami Cyclone” from the anime Tiger &

Bunny (Sunrise, 2011), Wirru enacted a non–canonical imagining of a scenario in whichall the other, competent, heroes from anime disappeared and the less than functionalcharacter was left to cope on his own. Through the use of mime, dance, pre–recordedaudio and video footage the skit depicted Origami Cyclone desperately trying to recallhis hero training. The premise of the skit enabled Wirru to incorporate references tonumerous other texts including other anime such as Attack on Titan (2009) and broadercultural elements including references to children’s television.

Again, Wirru engaged in creative recreation as he represented a cityscape setting usinga small–scale model city constructed out of cardboard and represented other charactersonstage using pre–recorded audio and video. His costumed body recreated the visual ap-pearance of the animated character in proportionate scale and detail. In his performanceWirru also mimicked the stealthy, creeping movements of the ninja–like character. Ina segment framed as ‘Gaining popularity with children,’ by text displayed on the videofootage, Wirru performed as “Origami Cyclone” pretending to be a children’s televisionpresenter. Wirru as “Origami Cyclone” sang and danced to a revised version of the pop-ular children’s song, ‘I’m a Little Teapot’. His lyrics are transcribed as follows:

I am a ninja short and stout–oBut when I throw my shuriken, hear me shout[whispers] shu–shu, shu–shu...Everybody together now,When you throw your shuriken, what do you shout?[whispers] shu–shu, shu–shu...Now, when your friends ask you, Can you throw shuriken?’What do you say?Shur I can! Boom–tish! (MNCC Final 2013 Video Author’s Transcript)

The humour of the juxtaposition between ninja warrior and children’s television pre-senter relies on the competitor’s ability to recognisably recreate in performance both“Origami Cyclone” character and the children’s presenter character simultaneously.

It has been argued that innovation and recreation in performance should not be seen asoppositional but rather as interdependent (Schieffelin, 1998; Hughes-Freeland, 2007).In successful cosplay skit performances competitors use creative means to ‘accurately’


recreate texts, and use elements of mimicry to create humorous ‘remixes’ of texts. AsI have demonstrated in previous chapters, the values of accuracy and creativity sharean uneasy relationship within the practice. In some contexts they are represented ascontradictory, in others as complementary. To perform a successful skit competitorsmust marry creativity and accuracy.

In both instances Wirru assembled costumes that appeared detailed and visually ac-curate to their source material. This not only showcased his ability to assembly highquality costumes, materially representing hours of offstage effort, but also enabled theaudience to recognise and identify the characters he was portraying. Both skits alsodemonstrated their creator’s deep understanding and familiarity with the texts. In thefirst that knowledge was evident in the recreation of minute details from the scale ofprop objects to the performance of lines of Japanese dialogue. In the second that knowl-edge was demonstrated through successful parody and juxtaposition as the characterof “Origami Cyclone” was reimagined in new, non–canonical situations. To publicallyprove their mastery, competitors like Wirru must demonstrate that they can negotiate thevalues of accuracy and creativity in the assembly and performance of their skits.

7.5 The Distribution of Mastery

As performance theorists have emphasised, the influence and effects of performancesare not confined to the frame of the event (Turner and Schechner, 1988; Cowan, 1990;Mendoza, 2000). Schulz (2000) in her study of beauty pageants in Mali notes that theimpact of the event on the wider community was heightened by the broadcasting of thecompetition on national television as a greater number of people were able to access theevent and discuss its representations. Similarly, the influence of cosplay competitionson the community of practice is distributed to a wider audience as performances arerecorded and made accessible online through live streaming and videos which are laterposted on organisers’ websites, personal blogs, Facebook and YouTube.

As Van Dijck (2008) has argued, recording culturally significant moments through videoand photography actually reaffirms their significance. Competition performances are notonly contests for recognition between individual practitioners but can also be identifiedas indexes of ‘good cosplay’ to be distributed to wider audiences. Performances which

7.5. THE DISTRIBUTION OF MASTERY 209

are deemed by audiences, judges and convention audiences to assemble the elementsof mastery are recreated digitally and distributed further, re–emphasising particular aes-thetics and qualities as masterful cosplay.

This distribution is actively promoted and facilitated by the event organisers in a numberof ways. Conventions such as AVCon organise official recordings of events, photogra-phy and video is explicitly allowed and encouraged on the part of the audience andopportunities for photography are actively incorporated into the onstage performances.Hosts provide instruction to competitors to pose at particular moments in the courseof onstage action and occasionally even suggest or direct the competitors to performspecific poses. All sequences of competition action incorporate moments where com-petitors must pose for photographs. Tellingly, the most basic competition form, the pa-rade, only requires competitors to pose for photographs without performing interviewsor skits.

Even physical costume objects may be distributed. At Animania 2010 in Adelaide I wassurprised to see some very familiar costumes displayed on mannequins in the main hallof the convention. The “Tidus”, “Riku” and “Waka” costumes worn by Wirru and hisfriends at SMASH and Manifest months earlier were now displayed as “prize–winning”cosplays in the main foyer of a convention in yet another Australian city.

Perth’s WaiCon in 2011 saw the public auction of one of Wirru’s handcrafted props. Theday before he had won the day competition performing as “Snow Villiers” from FinalFantasy XIII where he had sat astride a prop motorcycle interlaced with repurposed shopmannequins. The event host announced that Wirru was unable to afford to ship the propback to his home state so he had decided to auction the prop at the convention. Thebidding was competitive and the item sold for several hundred dollars.

The role of convention photography in creating a sense of community associated withevents is well–known by convention organisers. Some conventions go to considerablelengths to facilitate the creation of photographs and videos. AVCon’s photography team,for example, ensured that volunteer photographers were working in locations through-out each convention event I attended. Large scale convention events including cosplaycompetitions and the opening ceremony were photographed, videoed and livestreamedonline on the convention’s website. Images and videos produced by the official teamwere uploaded onto the convention’s website and social media profiles throughout the


duration of the convention and in the days following the event.

Cosplay mastery may be assembled in competition performances but that mastery islater broadcast to the wider community. Images and videos of Wirru’s performancesand even his own handcrafted objects travelled far beyond the auditoriums where hecompeted. Elements of the performance such as costume, embodied action, skit andinterview may be disassembled in distribution and evaluated out of context from oneanother. Audiences as much as judges or convention officials here play a role in creatingmasters as images and videos of non–winning entries that may have resonated with theaudience are also recorded and shared online. The merits of these ‘fan–favourites’ arealso discussed and compared with the official place–getters.

The distribution of mastery is also often carried out in person by the masters themselves.Many like Wirru, share their performances on their own sites and profiles, lecture new-comers at convention panels, and judge subsequent competitions. Furthermore, recog-nised cosplay masters within communities tend to be regular performers. One greatperformance does not a master necessarily make. Throughout my fieldwork I witnessedWirru compete in competitions in Melbourne, Perth, Sydney and Brisbane. The grandfinal of the MNCC tended to feature many of the same competitors year after year. Theassemblage and distribution of mastery must be recreated again and again in subsequentperformances.

7.6 Conclusion: Assembling and Distributing a Mas-ter

The lack of many formal structures within the practice can make cosplay appear veryegalitarian. However, as I have highlighted throughout this thesis certain, distinctiveindividuals do rise to prominence within the practice, wielding greater influence, posi-tions of authority over novices, and greater visibility within the community. Depictionsof mastery in more traditional or long-established communities of practice tend to de-pict the journey from novice to master as formalised and linear (Coy, 1989; Singleton,1998). In the absence of formalised pathways, mastery in cosplay is achieved througha series of assembly and negotiation processes. This chapter has explored how cos-

7.6. CONCLUSION 211

players have the opportunity to gain master status through participating successfully incompetitions.

Competitions are not the only means by which cosplayers can achieve mastery in Aus-tralia. However, throughout my fieldwork masterful competition performances oftenprovided further opportunities for cosplayers for recognition within the community.Successful competitors often ran convention panels, contributed cosplay content to con-vention websites, and regularly became judges themselves. Wirru went on to later judgesubsequent Grand Finals of the MNCC and to compete in the World Cosplay Summit ina team representing Australia. Demonstrations of mastery in competition performanceare highly enmeshed with other forms of community success beyond the competitionevent.

Echoing discussions of negotiation in performance from previous chapters, the com-petitors described in this chapter must individually negotiate key cultural values andaesthetics in the attempt to create ‘masterful’ performances. These negotiations are un-dertaken by individual competitors but they are performed and redistributed to a broadercommunity audience.

Chapter 6 explored the negotiation and assembly of cosplay performances in more theloosely structured and dynamic contexts of hallway performances. In contrast thischapter has focused on more structured competition contexts where spaces, roles andparticipation-frameworks appear to be more clearly defined. However, despite the morestructured nature of competition performances, competitors as performers must still en-gage in a complex dance of negotiations between different cosplay values.

The formalised genre of the competition interview narrative provides a challenging taskfor the cosplayer as they must attempt to verbally narrate their skill and effort whilemaintaining a humble demeanour. In attempting to do this successfully cosplayers em-ploy a variety of rhetorical techniques including humour and in-character performancesto avoid appearing boastful. Personal effort, dedication and skill must be communicatedin a detached manner.

The skit also provides serious challenges for competitors as they must negotiate valuesof accuracy and creativity. Their performances need to engage strongly with chosen in-spirational source texts so that audiences can recognise their intertextuality and evaluatetheir accuracy. However, these representations also require considerable creativity on


the part of the contestant as they need to translate one medium to anotherand present thecontent in a manner which will entertain and engage audiences and judges.

To achieve mastery through participating in competitions cosplayers must assemble,negotiate and distribute themselves as masters. In their material, digital and embodiedperformances competitors must coherently embody the ideal of mastery. As the judgeof one of Australia’s most prestigious competitions noted, champion competitors mustdemonstrate their proficiency in a range of onstage and offstage skills: the assembly ofaccurate and detailed costumes, their ability to plan and present entertaining and creativeskits onstage and their ability to embody and promote cosplay values. Competitors needto convey all this in their onstage performance at competitions which may last, at most,about fifteen minutes.

Successful performances, deemed by judges or audiences to embody the qualities ofmastery, are distributed to the wider community in the form of videos and photographsof the performance. In this way distrubted competition performances are reflexive forcosplay communities of practice. They provide an opportunity for communities to en-gage with ‘masterful’ embodiments of cosplay values, beyond the orginal bounded per-formance contexts. Current masters provide other cosplayers with potential models ofmastery which they in turn may attempt to recreate with variation. Like other things incosplay, texts, costumes and performance genres, masters are things to be created andrecreated in processes of assembly, negotiation and distribution.

Chapter 8

‘Pics, or It Didn’t Happen’:Photography and the (re)Creation ofCosplay

The phrase, ‘Pics or It Didn’t Happen’ is an internet meme popularly used on messageboards, forums or comments attached to blog posts1. The line is used by a commentatoras a challenge to the validity of claims made by another: a demand that the posterpresent photographs as evidence that a particular event occurred. I observed this phrasebeing used occasionally by cosplayers on social media sites. In one example a cosplayerclaimed to have recently obtained a tattoo. Another cosplayer responded to her post withthe line, ‘Pics or It Didn’t Happen.’

The phrase contains many allusions to popular discourses about photography and itsroles in contemporary Western societies in the climate of information revolution thepositivist notion of photographs as ‘evidence’, the relationship between photographicimages and memories of past events, and the strategic use of photographs in self–creation activities. Photographic practices play an extremely important role in the activ-ities of cosplayers as they continually use digital photographs to represent themselves aspractitioners, document cosplay experiences, and share cosplay knowledge with others.The phrase, ‘Pics or It Didn’t Happen’, can be applied to the community of practice

1http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/pics–or–it–didnt–happen, accessed 20/9/2013

213

214 CHAPTER 8. ‘PICS, OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN’

Figure 8.1: “Elf King” (Photograph by Patrick Korbel)

8.1. PHOTOGRAPHY AND THE (RE)CREATION OF COMMUNITY 215

itself; without photography and video activities cosplay would not happen.

In this final analytical chapter I explore cosplay photography and video activities as theultimate illustration of assembly and distribution processes in the practice. Photographsare both assemblages and distributed objects (Gell, 1998; Halvaksz, 2010). Each im-age and video requires an assembly of practitioners and their skills and labour, is theproduct of materials and technologies, and references myriad other texts and imageswithin the community. Using five photographic case studies I explore the diverse waysthat objects, performances, practitioners and communities are interconnected throughphotographic practices. In the creation of online photographic profiles on social net-working sites practitioners perform themselves as cosplayers; the sharing and ‘liking’of photographs creates further ties between cosplayers and can be used by individuals tocreate distinctive presences within the community; photographs and video can be usedto share skilled knowledge, and to create fantasies and memories. Redistributed anddispersed online, photographic images connect the material to the digital, individuals tocommunities and local communities to a global community of practice. Photography isa crucial element in the creation and recreation of cosplay.

As photographic images and practices are used in so many aspects of cosplay a com-prehensive analysis of cosplay photography is not possible within the confines of thisthesis. I have chosen instead to present a number of case–studies that exemplify someof the ways that cosplayers use photographs to define themselves and cosplay, and themeans by which photographic practices create and structure the cosplay community.Throughout my fieldwork cosplayers, photographers and convention attendees wouldshow me particular photographs and verbally or textually narrate the meanings and sto-ries they attached to the images. In this chapter I aim to recreate that activity as I shalldescribe the production contexts of the image, how it was used and understood by mem-bers of the community and what it reveals about the relationships between photographicpractices, practitioners and the practice of cosplay.

8.1 Photography and the (Re)Creation of Community

Photography plays many roles in the creation and recreation of the practice of cosplayand the communities associated with it. The fundamental importance of photography


to the practice of cosplay has been emphasised by several previous studies of cosplay(Okabe, 2012; Lunning, 2011; Rahman et al., 2012; Peirson-Smith, 2013). As visualanthropologist Edwards (2012, p.221) has argued, photographs do considerable ‘mate-rial work’. Drawing again on the work of Gell (1998) and others (Hirsch, 2004; Bell,2008; Halvaksz, 2010; Edwards, 2012), I characterise digital cosplay photography andvideo as another type of assembled and distributed objects. Edwards (2012) has arguedthat Gell’s concept of distributed objects can be usefully applied to photographs be-cause it recognises the multiplicity of photographs; that they can be dispersed and stillbe enmeshed within a network of social relations. Expanding on Gell (1998), Halvaksz(2010, p.415) argues that photographs are assemblages, drawing together photographer,subject, the material (or I would add, digital) nature of the photograph, the process, andthe interpretation of the image. Like costumes and performances, cosplay photogra-phy is ephemeral, yet enduring. Photographs and videos are constantly produced andreproduced through assembly and distribution processes. After Gell (1998), I wouldargue that photographic images play an important role in an ‘art–nexus’ of cosplay;photographs and videos are both created by the community and actively work to createthat community.

Photographs and videos in their status as assembled and distributed objects possess thecapacity to extend and compress cultural space and time (Bell, 2008; Halvaksz, 2010;Hirsch, 2004). Hirsch (2004) has commented on the ability of photography, like ritualevents, to assemble past, present and future. Photographs may recall past events tothe present (Bell, 2008; Halvaksz, 2010), or may even be used to guide future action(Drazin and Frohlich, 2007). The distribution of cosplay photography in time and spaceis most commonly achieved through the display and exchange of images online. Theremediation of photographs as digital images amplifies the capacity of photography tocollapse the temporal and spatial distance between practitioners.

The exchange of photographic imagery, both digital and physical, can create relation-ships between individuals and communities (Van Dijck, 2008; Drazin and Frohlich,2007; Pink, 2011; Edwards, 2012). Pink (2011) has argued that photography can playa crucial role in community–making as the display and sharing of images can connectindividuals’ personal narratives to a wider community narratives. “Sharing” is the termcommonly used to describe the act of uploading images on public websites, particularlyon Facebook. Images and videos are “shared” by users. This term is particularly ap-

8.2. THE PHOTOGRAPHER 217

propriate in describing the ways that photographic images and photographic labour areexchanged within Australian cosplay communities of practice. The exchange of cosplayphotography operates along the lines of a ‘gift economy’ (Mauss and Cunnison, 1979)as practitioners share highly personalised images and personal efforts. Through the pro-duction, display and exchange of photographs and videos practitioners are enmeshed inprocesses of objectification which serve to recreate both practice and community.

8.2 The Photographer

I took this first photograph, Figure 8.2, at Oz Comic–Con Adelaide in March 2012. Thesubject is a cosplay photographer whose identity is unknown to me. The picture wastaken in the food court area, a heterogeneous hallway space, where many cosplayersand photographers were ‘hanging–out’, chatting, taking photographs and being pho-tographed. I was standing at a table with Julia and a group of other ACG members. Ihad recently photographed Julia and her friends and, as I was also wearing cosplay thatday, they had been using my SLR camera to take pictures of me. Out of the corner of myeye I was watching other photographers and cosplayers who were standing only metresaway. When the photographer knelt down to photograph the female cosplayer whoseshadow is visible on the bottom right–hand side of the image, I was struck by the theatri-cality of the photographer’s pose and quickly decided to take the shot. This image alsomanaged to capture another photographer, behind the main subject in the background,waiting as a cosplayer adjusts her cape in preparation to be photographed.

Cosplay photographers play vital roles in the creation and recreation of Australian cos-play communities of practice. To some extent cosplay photographers are invisible orhidden participants in the practice as it is the faces and bodies of cosplayers that areprominently displayed on Facebook, on websites, in videos and magazines. Cosplayis performative and cosplayers must be seen. In contrast, cosplay photographers arehidden behind their lenses. On Facebook and cosplay websites their participation inthe practice is marked by their photographs of others. These images are often ‘water-marked’ with the name or ‘working name’ of the photographer, usually in the bottom–right corner of the image.

The ‘invisible’ nature of cosplay photographers occasionally leads to debates over the


Figure 8.2: Photographers


legal and ethical ownership of cosplay photographs. A particular, publicised exampleof this debate which was discussed by cosplayers and photographers within my localcommunity of practice was the allegedly unauthorised use of photographs by the Syfytelevision reality series Heroes of Cosplay. In this example permission to use the im-ages in the programme were apparently sought from the cosplayers but not the originalphotographers (Ardita, August 25, 2013). The confusion over the ownership of cos-play images does, however, highlight the close relationship between photographers andperformers and suggest that cosplay photographs are collaborative creations or ‘assem-blages’ in Halvaksz’s (2010) sense.

The collaborative nature of cosplay photography means that photographer biographiesare often deeply interrelated with cosplayers and cosplay organisations. As the tra-jectories of practitioners and practices can be considered interdependent (Shove et al.,2007), the close social relationships between individual photographers and cosplayersre–emphasise the close association between the practices of cosplay and photography.As with cosplayers, individual participants in cosplay photography may engage in thepractice in different ways and to differing extents. Some photographers attend occa-sional events while others are regular participants, running photography websites orvolunteering their skills at conventions.Cosplay photographers become involved in thepractice through a variety of circumstances and motivations.

In interview, cosplay photographer and head of AVCon’s photography team, Emmanueldescribed how he embarked on his cosplay photography career. He attended an AVConin 2010, accompanying some friends who were participating in a videogame tourna-ment. A keen photographer since childhood, Emmanuel brought along his camera andwas impressed by his first encounter with cosplay.

And I had a look around and I thought, ‘This is really amazing: the atmo-sphere, the costumes.’ (Emmanuel, Author’s Interview 2012)

He decided to join the ACG in early 2011 and befriended a number of cosplayers. Itwas at this time that he decided to try cosplaying himself, performing several DoctorWho cosplays, including the “Ninth” and “Tenth Doctors”. He participated in a numberof events as both cosplayer and photographer before deciding to approach Team AVConto apply for a position on their volunteer photography team. Like the participants incommunities of practice described by (Lave and Wenger, 1991), Emmanuel’s social


status within the community improved as his participation increased.

Within a year I went from having never been to a convention, I had no ideawhat cosplay was, to being part of the group.

(Emmanuel, Author’s Interview 2012)

Emmanuel’s story also illustrates how the division between cosplayer and cosplay pho-tographer can often be blurred; many practitioners who identify primarily as ‘cosplay-ers’ will photograph themselves or others for many different purposes, some of whichwill be outlined in this chapter. As explored in Chapter 6, at a specific event such asa convention or photo shoot a participant may change roles between photographer andsubject.

As with cosplayers, the role, identity and practice of photographers are closely associ-ated with material things, in this instance gear. In their study of amateur digital photog-raphers Shove et al. (2007) noted that practitioner biographies were intimately tied totheir equipment. The photographer in the image above is using an unidentifiable SLRcamera with a detachable lens. At events, especially large conventions, many differ-ent types of devices are used to photograph cosplayers: smart phones, tablets, compactcameras and SLRs.

The relationship between the cosplay photographer’s gear and their perceived depthof engagement with the practice is particularly important. Longer term participants,who self–identified predominantly as photographers, usually owned and used digitalSLR cameras. For example, Emmanuel, as head of AVCon’s photographic team, usedtwo professional–standard Canon brand camera bodies with an assortment of lenses.While he told me that he had purchased several items second hand, the cost of the gearhe regularly used was several thousand dollars. As with cosplay, those who wish to‘seriously’ participate in the practice must be able and willing to spend a considerablesum. In addition to the financial outlay, those aiming to use SLR cameras also needed tocommit more time to learning how to operate their equipment. I discovered this myselfas I learnt to use an SLR over the duration of my fieldwork.

Cosplay photographers may outlay considerable funds to participate in their craft, but,like cosplayers, they are not guaranteed any financial returns on their purchases. WhileI did encounter online discussions on international websites of cosplay photographerswho charged fees for their services, all the photographers that I regularly encountered


Figure 8.3: Photographers at Oz Comic–Con (Photograph by Patrick Korbel)


during fieldwork did not photograph cosplay for monetary payment. Instead photog-raphers and cosplayers tend to relate as co–creators, exchanging labour and engagingin mutual promotion. Returning to a very familiar theme of material culture studiesin anthropology, I would argue that this form of labour exchange bares a closer rela-tionship to gift giving in the sense of Mauss and Cunnison (1979) than the exchangebetween professional photographer and client. Within cosplay communities of practicephotographs and videos are not typically treated as commodities, but instead through theprocesses of objectification I have described throughout this thesis they are intimatelyconnected with practitioners, performances and processes and rendered into ‘inalienableobjects’ (Weiner, 1992). Similarly, the labour of both photographer and cosplayer is notcommoditised but instead is viewed more as a shared experience, an act of friendship orcommunity creation.

In the photo shoots and convention photography that I participated in during fieldworkmost of the photographic work was performed by friends, friends of informants andacquaintances. Often times when attending conventions with other cosplayers, onemember of our group would know a photographer attending that day and we woulddeliberately organise to meet up with them so that they could photograph our costumes.Sometimes we worked out a direct exchange of labour. For example, cosplay group TheCon Artists spent a day shooting in the heart of retail district of Adelaide with localphotography team I Got Superpowers. We agreed to assist them by performing in a cos-play version of the dance meme video, “Harlem Shake”, which we shot at a local comicbook store. The store owners and workers knew the photographers and were happy tolet us use the store for half an hour, even consenting to dance wildly in the video. Thephotographers then assisted The Con Artists by helping us shoot a promotional videofor our upcoming performance.

However, like other forms of gift–giving this exchange of labour does create a burden ofobligation. Cosplayers who posed for photographs had an expectation that they wouldbe able to access and view these photographs, almost instantly after they had been cre-ated. Emmanuel described how he felt pressured by cosplayers to post his photographs


online very soon after events:

People will get on my Facebook page and be like, ‘Where are the pho-tos?’ Man, I haven’t even got home yet! I seriously had messages be-fore I’d got home from an event because we went to an after party. Somany people asking me where the photos are and it’s 2am in the morning.

(Emmanuel, Author’s Interview 2012)

According to Emmanuel, cosplayers expect that they will be depicted in a flatteringmanner and that the photographic imagery will be of a high quality with no obvioustechnical flaws. He often chooses not to upload images that will discredit his technicalabilities or portray the cosplayer in a less than flattering manner. However, he reportedthat this choice sometimes upset cosplayers who knew that they had been photographedand anticipated viewing their images on Facebook.

The co–creative nature of the relationship between cosplayers and photographers wasregularly acknowledged by cosplayer photographers.

It’s the photographer’s job to make the cosplayer look great and make themfeel good about themselves and their cosplay.

(IGotSuperpowers, Author’s Questionnaire 2012)

Photographers from Adelaide–based cosplay and pop culture website IGotSuperpowersexplicitly saw their role as promoting and creating a cosplay community:

C: What is the most enjoyable aspect of being involved with the website?

IGSP: There are many. But one thing that comes to mind first is communityengagement. It’s good to see the fans or our readers engage with us notnecessarily through comments but through social media sharing in the formof LIKE, FACEBOOK SHARE and TWEET. It tells us that we’re doing agreat job and that it means something to the community.


We started taking photos of cosplayers when we first attended AVCon in2011. Our aim was to give the “underdogs” or lesser known cosplay-ers a chance at stardom when we showcase their photos on our websiteand social media channels. We’ve received such a great positive feedbackfrom the fans that we’ve never stopped since.

(IGotSuperpowers, Author’s Questionnaire 2012)

The sentiments expressed in this quotation emphasises the co–creative role of cosplayersand photographers in shaping the practice. In these comments the photographers in factattribute greater importance to photographers as they are viewed as being able to elevatethe status of individual cosplayers and create them as ‘star’ practitioners. Photographerscan promote the work of individual cosplayers by capturing it and sharing it online. Asthe following sections will demonstrate both cosplayers and photographers perform and,indeed, create themselves as practitioners through the display of photographic imageson social networking sites.

8.3 The Profile Picture

The picture depicted in Figure 8.4 is a photograph of me in cosplay as “Kusuri–uri”.The picture, which I cropped from a larger image using the digital editing programGIMP, was displayed as my ‘Profile Picture’ on Facebook for several years during partof fieldwork and the writing–up periods of my thesis project. The photograph was takenby my friend Corey with the assistance of my partner Patrick at the Adelaide HimeijiGarden as part of a pre–planned photo shoot in 2011.

This shoot took place in early December on a day where the temperature reached aroundthirty–eight degrees Celsius. The shoot ran from around eleven o’clock to half–pasttwelve and the bright and scorching sun is evident in other photographs that were takenon that day in bright blue skies and high contrast shadows. Wearing T–shirts and jeans,Corey and Patrick were uncomfortable but in several layers of kimono I was boiling.The photograph does not show any evidence of the amount that I was sweating. Mymakeup looks unblemished and does not reflect the physical sensation of the makeupturning to liquid on my face.

8.3. THE PROFILE PICTURE 225

Figure 8.4: Ethnographer as “Kusuri–uri” (Photograph by Corey Newcombe)


The selection of the location required considerable preparatory work on my part. Theseries in which the Kusuri–uri character features Mononoke (Toei Animation, 2007)and Ayakashi: Samurai Horror Tales (Toei Animation, 2006) are both set in a fantasticalimagining of Edo–period Japan. I wanted to photograph myself in cosplay in a locationthat reflected the setting of the series. Twenty–first–century Adelaide does not possessmany locations that visually reflect Edo–period Japan; however, drawing upon by ownknowledge as a local I knew of one place in the city that I believed would provide asuitable location for the shoot the Adelaide Himeiji Garden.

With a camera, a tripod and two lighting umbrellas we spent over an hour in the garden.We took photographs in a number of different places and using different props includinga paper parasol I had purchased from a local Japanese goods outlet and my hand–craftedprop sword. For one photograph I perched precariously on a small stone step in themiddle of a pond. Patrick manipulated the lighting umbrellas and Corey took the shots.We attracted a few sideways glances from some non–costumed visitors to the garden.From the shoot Corey gave me a CD–Rom with about fifty images he had selected andedited.

From these images I selected one of the photographs to use as my profile image onFacebook. I chose this image for a number of reasons. In the photograph I was cosplay-ing a character I liked from an anime I enjoyed. The image was aesthetically pleasingby cosplay photo shoot genre standards: the costume and my performance appeared in–character, accurate and detailed; the subject was in focus and the contrast was neither toolow nor high. The photograph also represented the skills I had acquired in the assemblyand performance of the costume. It recalled memories of events at which I had worn thecostume, including the photo shoot, and expressed my relationship to others who werepresent at the event and would recognise the costume when displayed online.

My choice of Facebook profile picture in this instance reflects the way that other cos-players within Australian communities of practice use digital photographic images toconstruct performances of cosplaying self online. Early in 2012 I attended an ACG so-cial meet–up at an inner–city pub in Adelaide to chat with the costumers and conduct aninformal interview with long–term costumer and ACG member, Catherine. Catherine,responding to my request for photos of earlier costumes, had brought along a publishedphoto booklet. It was about A5 size, well–presented like the kind printed at photographystores. The photographs depicted Catherine wearing a number of different costumes at

8.3. THE PROFILE PICTURE 227

different events. The revelation of this photo booklet provoked some comments fromher friends who were looking on. Comments such as: ‘You’re so old fashioned. Whatabout a phone?’ ‘What about Facebook?’

The reactions of Catherine’s friends to her ‘old–fashioned’ choice to display her pho-tographs in printed material form for this interview hints at the ubiquitous role that thesocial networking site Facebook plays in the activities of local cosplayers. The cos-players that I interacted with during fieldwork, including Catherine, all used Facebookaccounts on which they actively displayed costume images. Sometimes they addition-ally held memberships with other image sharing sites such as Flickr, Tumblr, deviantArtand international cosplay–specific sites such as Cosplay.com. Other non–cosplayingparticipants in the cosplay community of practice convention attendees, conventionorganisers, cosplay photographers also used Facebook to display pictures of costumesand comment upon them. Australian pop–culture conventions and cosplay competitionsalso had a prominent Facebook presence.

Many cosplayers who I encountered during fieldwork used pictures of themselves incostume as their profile picture on Facebook. The profile picture image is the most im-mediate and personalised depiction of self on Facebook. According to the site’s currentlayout at the time of writing not only is the profile image displayed above a user’s time-line on their own page but the image acts as an icon, representing the user in messagesand comments. The profile picture is not merely a representation of self but an ongoing,strategically constructed performance of self and distributed extension of self.

As Miller (2011) and other studies of the social networking site (Horst, 2009; Urry andLarsen, 2011) have argued, Facebook presentation is a performance of self. Miller(2011, p.177-8) argues that this depiction of self can be continuous with an offlinepresentation or alternate to an offline presentation. At first glance it may appear thatcosplayers, dressed as outlandish characters, are presenting themselves in a mannerseparate from enduring, everyday identities. While cosplayers may use images de-picting themselves as an alternate character, through the repeated display of cosplayphotographs over time the cosplayer constructs themselves as an active participant inthe community, a cosplayer. After Gell (1998) I would argue that cosplay photographsand videos displayed on Facebook, particularly profile pictures, act as distributed cos-playing selves for through the display of cosplaying images cosplayers visually performthemselves as cosplayers, demonstrating their skills and practitioner biographies.


While objects possess ‘cultural biographies’ (Kopytoff, 1986), the personal history orbiography of an individual can also be told through objects (Hoskins, 1998). Throughuploading photographs of their cosplaying activities online cosplayers create digital bi-ographies of their cosplaying activities. The online display of cosplay portraits areperformances of performances. These images broadcast to other cosplayers and wideraudiences the user’s status as a cosplayer. Photographs taken at photo shoots, con-ventions or other events also record and demonstrate the cosplayers’ participation incommunity events and reaffirm their social relations with those who were also present.‘Progress’ pictures of costumes taken during the assembly process portray the cosplayeras a craftsperson who has put time and effort into their construction activities.

Renee, for example, explicitly saw her collection of cosplay photographs on Facebookas a portfolio that represented her costuming activities.

All my photos of all my costumes, they’re on Facebook. If you need anyphotos to show anyone you can go through my Facebook as much as youlike and take as many photos as you want to use for this. That’s where allmy photos are. I don’t have physical copies of them. I don’t have themsaved on my phone. If anyone says, ‘Oh can I see the costumes you make?’I say, ‘Yeah, sure. Facebook.’ That’s the technology of today that we’re allso linked into the media so that if I met someone who came to a meetinglike this and asked if I had a portfolio then I would be like, ‘Well, hereyou go, here’s my Facebook page let’s scroll through it.’ When people askme for a show–reel for a job I say, ‘Find me on Facebook and you’ll seeeverything.’ (Renee, Author’s Interview 2012)

From Renee’s statement it is clear that the display of personal cosplay images Facebookdoes not only provide a record of past participation but can actively provide furtherparticipation opportunities. As detailed in Chapter 2, my contact with participants inAustralian communities of practice broadened considerably after I began posting imagesof my own cosplaying activities. Community members who organise events regularlysend out invitations to cosplayers on Facebook who have been ‘tagged’ in photographsof previous events. Photographs of one’s cosplay performances therefore can becomean entry ticket to future events.

For these reasons cosplayers are careful to represent themselves and their in the best pos-

8.4. FINAL FANTASIES 229

sible light on Facebook. These distributed ‘cosplayer selves’ are also strategically pre-sented performances in Goffman’s (1990) sense. Cosplayers within Australian commu-nities of practice tend to use photographs that would be considered aesthetically pleas-ing according to values of the community. For example, in that image my “Kusuri–uri”costume appears detailed and accurate. Intricate face makeup, handcrafted jewelleryand even painted nails are on show. The colours and shapes match those of the originalcharacter design from the anime. The photograph itself similarly conforms to aesthet-ics expected in cosplay photo shoot genre photography. The image is in focus, well–litand the background serves to enhance the character. In choosing to present themselvesthrough aesthetically pleasing images cosplayers are not only strategically displayingthemselves in the best possible light but are also recreating and reaffirming communityaesthetics. Murray (2008) has argued that in selecting photographic images to displayonline, users define and recreate shared aesthetic standards. Images of ‘good’ cosplayare selected and represented online.

8.4 Final Fantasies

The image below, Figure 8.5, depicts a wedding that took place in the Adelaide BotanicGardens. In a public park, in front of rows of white seating, a couple’s hands are joinedtogether by a priestess dressed in white. This “wedding” was an improvised cosplayperformance enacted as part of an organised Final Fantasy Cosplay Day in the park. Thebride and groom of the couple are cosplayers recreating the roles of “Tidus” and “Yuna”,characters who are love–interests from Final Fantasy X. The cosplayers playing Tidusand Yuna were themselves also a ‘real–life’ couple. To the left, the groomsmen are (Lto R) adult “Hope Estheim” from Final Fantasy XIII–2 and “Cloud Strife” from FinalFantasy VII. The bridesmaids are (L to R) “Tifa” from Final Fantasy VII and “Vanille”from Final Fantasy XIII. Dressed in my “White Mage” robes and representing a magicalor spiritual character from earlier games in the franchise, I was considered the closestproxy for a priest. The performance was devised through a collaboration of cosplayersand photographers and was staged for the purpose of being photographed.

Cosplay performances and photographic activities are closely entwined. Photographicand video practices are involved in recording and remembering cosplay events but they

Figure 8.5: Final fantasies (Photograph by Nathan from IGotSuperpowers)






also play a significant role in creating and promoting these events. Like cosplayersin Japan, China and the United States (Lunning, 2011; Okabe, 2012), participants inAustralian communities of practice regularly organise events for the explicit purpose ofcreating photographic images and videos. Photography facilitates the assembly of localpractitioners in a very literal sense.

Throughout the period of my fieldwork cosplay photography was regularly used to pro-mote events, both larger events staged by organisations like AVCon, Manifest, SMASHand the Australian Costumers Guild and smaller parties and gatherings. Dustin, thepromotions co–ordinator for AVCon, argued that this was a deliberate strategy:

At the end of the day I need to capture the vision of my audience and cos-play does it. I could write the most amazing press release about AVCon ben-efitting the South Australian economy and it would get picked up by TheMessenger in a small little paragraph. I get my promotions team dressedas characters from Alice in Wonderland and I put them in Rundle Mall, Iget front page. Cosplay is the easiest way to get people to recognise whatAVCon is. It is a bunch of fun people, big smiles, bright costumes havingfun outside and that’s why when it comes to promotions I’ll put as manyphotos as I can. I’ll put as many stories as I can of people just dressing upand having a whole bunch of fun. And at the end of the day that’s AVCon.

(Dustin, Author’s Interview 2010)

In the lead up to conventions and other events cosplayers would often display picturesof their costumes “in–progress”, showing construction processes and inviting others tocomment, Figure 8.6. These photographs not only enabled cosplayers to document andpromote their personal activities but also created a sense of anticipation in relation tothe upcoming event among community members.

Most often this promotional imagery was displayed and distributed through Facebook.In a recent study of the use of Facebook in Trinidad, Miller (2011) notes that the socialnetworking site is used to create and facilitate offline events. The Final Fantasy CosplayDay in Adelaide was created for the purpose of creating performances, sociality andphotography. The event was organised and publicised online through Facebook. Twolocal cosplayers created an Event page which was later displayed on AVCon’s officialpage, thereby notifying anyone who had ‘liked’ the AVCon page. Various well–known


,

Figure 8.6: Julia’s belt


cosplayers and photographers had been ‘invited’ to attend the event and those who wereplanning to be there had their profiles listed as ‘attending.’ In the days and weeks leadingup to the event the page was also used as a site of discussion of the event where guestscould comment and ask organisers questions. Online discussions on this page enabledthe organisers to promote a sense of anticipation about the event and provided a meansof connecting potential participants who were planning to attend.

The event itself was held on a scorching hot Saturday afternoon and was attended byaround thirty cosplayers and fifteen photographers. Participants shared food and drinkin the shade, chatting casually between photographs. Individual and group shots of cos-players were taken. Sometimes a cosplayer would stage a pose for all the photographerspresent. At other times photographers and cosplayers would leave the main party inpairs or small groups for different locations around the park to create more individu-alised shots.

Photo shoots like the Final Fantasy Cosplay Day are events explicitly created to facilitatethe production of photographic images. The genre of cosplay photo shoot photographyis highly performative as photographer and cosplayer work together to create fictionalfantasies. Similar to the in–character performances described in Chapters 6 and 7, photoshoot images are typically framed as being ‘make believe’, as taking place within thecharacters’ fictional universe(s), or another setting removed from everyday life. Thisframing is created by performers and photographers through the use of cropping, digitalediting and mise–en–scene elements. Non–relevant material that could break the illu-sory nature of the image, such as power–lines, rubbish bins, non–costumed passers–by,out of character performances, is removed from the image. Theorists have emphasisedthe improvisatory nature of performance (e.g. Cowan (1990); Schieffelin (1998)), andis certainly true of cosplay photo shoots. Photo shoots are improvisatory assemblageswhich involve cosplayers and photographers playing with found objects, texts and cos-tumed performers. The performance created in the photograph above was assembled ina matter of fifteen minutes through the discussions of participants.

The flowers, rows of white wooden seating (bedecked with ribbon), and the rolled upcarpet (barely visible) were not props brought to the location by cosplayers but wererather ‘found objects’ that inspired and were used by our cosplaying group. The BotanicGardens are a favourite local site for weddings ceremonies, photography and receptions.A photographer attending the cosplay event found the seating set–up in preparation for a


wedding and spontaneously suggested the idea that a group of us stage a ‘Final Fantasy’wedding photograph.

The subjects in the photograph, the cosplayers, were themselves ‘found objects’ for thepurpose of the image. The photographers selected us from the group of cosplayers basedon the characters we were portraying. There were discussions as to which characterswould best fulfil the role of groomsmen, bridesmaids and priest.

The photograph itself can be considered a ‘playful’ use of multiple texts and images as itcombines intertextual references to the Final Fantasy game franchise, Western weddingrituals, and the ‘real life’ relationships of the cosplay performers themselves. The sub-jects in the photograph, the cosplayers, were themselves “found objects” for the purposeof the image.

The cosplayers portraying the bride and groom were an actual couple who had come tothe event dressed “Tidus” and “Yuna”, love interests from Final Fantasy X. For thosepresent at the event and many who later viewed the image online on Facebook, the imagewas interpreted as a performance of their status as a couple on several levels.

The groomsmen’s roles were filled by cosplayers portraying two young male charac-ters from the franchise. They were chosen as they were deemed to be the right ageto be friends with the groom despite the fact that the characters derive from differentgames and have never canonically met in their respective texts. In the photograph thesemale cosplayers are slumping in awkward poses while holding paper cups, suggestingan attitude of drunkenness. While drunken revelry would be considered very ‘out–of–character’ for “Cloud” and “Hope”, this behaviour was viewed by photo shoot partici-pants as very ‘in–character’ for both groomsmen at a wedding celebration and the twocosplayers themselves. For those familiar with the games, Western weddings and/or thecosplayers depicted the humour of the performance derives from the juxtaposition be-tween the sombre, serious nature of the characters as they appear in the canonical textsand the drunken behaviour they are exhibiting as groomsmen.

This playfulness continued in new contexts when the image was shared online on Face-book several days later. The images was tagged and ‘liked’. The comments posted inrelation to the image continued the performance of the photograph. Commenters madejokes about whether the characters would get drunk at a wedding or commented on thesuitability of a ‘real life’ couple portraying “Tidus” and “Yuna” The image was shared

8.5. DOCTOR WHO??! 235

by many of the participants and their friends.

The creation of photo shoot imagery and its subsequent distribution online organisesand creates performance opportunities. Photographers and cosplayers together assem-ble playful fantasies where elements of pre–existing texts and features of ‘real–life’ areintertwined. The distribution of such images online on Facebook and other photo shar-ing sites creates the opportunity for further members of the community to engage withthe performative fantasies created in the image. As the image is shared and interactedwith online the performance itself is distributed (Gell, 1998) across time and space andthe relationships between shoot participants and online viewers are reinforced.

8.5 Doctor Who??!

This photograph, Figure 8.7, is a head and shoulders portrait of my friend Ashtoncosplaying as “Doctor Who”, specifically the “Eleventh Doctor” as portrayed by MattSmith. The photograph was taken by Mark, a cosplayer, cosplay photographer, memberof the ACG and friend to Julia. It was taken in the morning on the first day AVCon in2012. The convention setting is barely evident in the photograph as the camera’s focus isentirely on the subject with the background convention contexts blurred in the aestheticeffect known as bokeh. To the right of the subject is the sleeve of Daniel’s “Captain JackHarkness” trench coat which has not been entirely cut out of the frame.

In the photograph Ashton is wearing the outfit he wore to both days of the convention.He had found the jacket at an op–shop and the rest of the clothing, including the smallred leather bow tie was his own. Tucked into his breast pocket and clearly visible in thephotograph is a green Sonic Screwdriver prop. The green Sonic Screwdriver is a propexclusively associated with the “Eleventh Doctor” character. This particular version wasa piece of mass–produced merchandise which was owned by Julia who had purchasedit online. Leading up to the convention the group had discussed and planned who wouldlend Ashton a version of the prop. Daniel also owned a similar replica but it was deemedtoo small for accuracy. In the week before the convention Ashton and other membersof the group had also searched costume shops and hatters in Adelaide looking for thecharacter’s iconic red fez, worn in several episodes, but we discovered that due to thepopularity of the character it had sold out. On the second day of the convention Julia

Figure 8.7: Ashton as “Doctor Who” (Original photograph by Maetography)






managed to borrow him a fez from another cosplayer. In this way Ashton’s costumewas assembled from objects owned and sourced by a number of cosplayers.

The photograph was uploaded to Facebook the evening of the day after the convention.It had been edited and re–sized by Mark who sent the image to Julia who uploadedthe image to The Con Artists Facebook page. Julia, writing as the administrator for theFacebook page, added the caption, ‘Doctor Who??!’ and tagged Ashton as the subject ofthe photograph. The photograph could now be viewed by anyone accessing the publicCon Artists page. Ashton and the entirety of his Facebook friends list were notifiedthat Ashton had been tagged in the photograph and were provided with a link to theimage.

As evident in Figure 8.7, the picture received 22 ‘likes’ and six comments within lit-tle over twenty–four hours. Every time that the picture was ‘liked’ or commented onFacebook would notify Ashton and every other member of The Con Artists. Thosewho posted comments on the photograph would also receive notification if other Face-book users posted subsequent comments. As I sat online observing the post–conventionphotograph sharing and discussion I was regularly receiving notifications that this pho-tograph was being viewed and appraised.

The photograph of Ashton as the “Eleventh Doctor” and the activities it generateddemonstrate how the sharing of photographs on Facebook creates relationships betweencosplayers. Recent visual and material culture approaches have argued that the sharingand exchanging of photography both physical objects and digital images can play asignificant role in the creation and maintenance of social relations (Drazin and Frohlich,2007; Van Dijck, 2008; Edwards, 2012). ‘Pixelated images, like spoken words, cir-culate between individuals and groups to establish and reconfirm bonds,’ (Van Dijck,2008, p.62). In sharing digital cosplay photographs on Facebook practitioners not onlyobjectify their relationships with photographers and perform themselves as cosplayersbut through the use of Facebook’s ‘tag’, ‘like’ and ‘comment’ functions cosplayers es-tablish tangible links with other members of the community of practice.

As well as allowing users to display and share photographic images, Facebook alsoencourages users to interact with images through a variety of different functions. The‘tag’ function on Facebook allows users to identify people depicted in photographs thatthey upload and display. When cosplayers, photographers and attendees post albums


and photographs on social media and image–sharing sites they often identify themselvesand other subjects using a ‘tag’ feature. After attending conventions and other events, Ioften discovered notifications from Facebook informing me that I had been ‘tagged’ inthe photographs of other cosplayers. For example, one of Julia’s friends would uploadtheir pictures of a convention and then Julia would identify herself, me and other friendsand acquaintances. Additionally, I would often be contacted by friends of informants,other cosplayers and attendees who I had met at events. They were able to identifyand locate me through pictures in which I had been tagged. They would offer ‘friendrequests’, allowing for further exchanges of images and messages. In this way I wasable to connect with wider and wider circles of local and interstate cosplayers.

The photo sharing functions of Facebook facilitate the development of an ever expand-ing web of practitioners and audiences. However, these functions also serve as a digitalmarker of cosplay success and enable cosplayers to engage in a struggle for ‘fame’(Miller, 2000) and ‘distinction’ (Bourdieu, 1990). In an early study of personal web-sites in Trinidad, precursors to social networking profiles, Miller (2000) argues that thesharing of personalised content can be a means to growing status or ‘fame’. ‘What they[users] desire most is to create a circuit of sociality in which they can grow their fameas the fame of their individual website among a group of peers’ (Miller, 2000, p.17).Like Ashton, cosplayers whose photographs receive multiple views, ‘likes’ and positivecomments are better regarded among members of the community than those whose pho-tographs go unnoticed. Other members of the group were slightly surprised and maybea little envious of Ashton’s online success:

Then there was Ashton who went as the Doctor to AVCon and he got all thephotos and all the people gave him the attention and I like the attention onme. So when it was Supanova and there was no Ashton, I got to have all thefun photos that Ashton might have had! (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

The sharing and displaying of photographs online can also be an agonistic activity, asmembers struggle for distinction within cosplay communities. While various sites andorganisations run occasional dedicated online cosplay competitions, far more commonis the everyday, tacitly understood spirit of competitiveness between cosplayers overwho is attracting the most online attention from spectators and other cosplayers. Cos-players I encountered did not usually describe their online displays of cosplay photogra-phy as a competitive, emphasising instead ideas of sharing and community. The ethics


of modesty and casualness performed by competitors in onstage cosplay competitionsis again reflected here. However, in interviews cosplayers would often mention otherscosplaying friends and acquaintances who they believed were constantly seeking on-line attention for their photographs and videos. Daniel was one cosplayer who openlyadmitted enjoying online attention and explicitly viewed this attention as a measure ofcosplay success:

C: You’ve already touched on some of these things but how do you feelabout being photographed or filmed?

D: I love it now. Day one, first convention ever at AVCon, I was a bit...err...Where are you putting this photo, giant pony? But now it’s almost a mea-sure of success so the more photos I’m tagged in means the better my cos-tume was. If I can get a picture of me on the Supanova homepage becausemy costume was a really good cosplay then that means my cosplay wasawesome. (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

Throughout my fieldwork experience there were regular occasions when I found myselfparticipating in this competitive aspect. The evening after a day out in cosplay at a con-vention I would be on Facebook on my home computer waiting for pictures of the eventto be posted by friends and fellow attendees. While my motivations were primarilyethnographic I often found myself experiencing feelings of excitement and satisfactionupon viewing positive comments and ‘likes’ on pictures of my costumes. Conversely,an absence of photographs or videos of myself led to feelings of disappointment andworries about what was ‘wrong’ with my costume. Occasionally, I caught myself tal-lying the number of photographs of cosplaying friends displayed online after an eventand comparing them to the number in which I featured.

This relationship between the number of ‘likes’ on a cosplay photograph and the merit ofthe practitioner can be explained due to the photograph’s nature as a form of distributedpersonhood (Gell, 1998). The objectifications at work in digital cosplay photography,as described in the previous sections of this chapter, mean that in evaluating or ‘liking’an image of Facebook a person is evaluating or liking the costume, the performanceor the work of the cosplayer. This sentiment is echoed in the above quotation fromDaniel.


Returning to the photograph of Ashton as the “Eleventh Doctor”, the expected relation-ship between Facebook fame and cosplayer competency provides an explanation as towhy certain other cosplayers were annoyed by Ashton’s success. Despite the very ba-sic nature of the costume, particularly in comparison to some of the more elaboratelyassembled or handmade outfits worn by other members of the group, the photographreceived overwhelmingly positive attention. Discussing the costume with Ashton, othermembers of the group and cosplayers later in interview the success of the costume wasattributed to Ashton’s accurate physical resemblance to Matt Smith:

He wasn’t cosplaying; he just happened to be out for the weekend with afez! (Daniel, Author’s Interview 2012)

Ashton’s success was attributed to luck as opposed to competency. Despite the best in-tentions of cosplayers images can be interpreted differently, efforts can go unrecognisedand fame can be fickle.

8.6 Tutorial Photography

This image in Figure 8.8 depicts a very different use of photographic images in a cosplayperformance. I took this photograph during a cosplay leather–working panel held atSMASH in 2013. It depicts the presenter of the panel standing in front of a screendisplaying a PowerPoint presentation slide. On the slide are photographs of costumeobjects, created by the presenter, in various stages of being applied with ‘antique’ whichdyes or stains the leather. The images would be visible to nearly everyone seated inthe audience of the panel. The presenter is explaining the process and importance of‘antiquing.’

Photographs are regularly used by cosplayers in teaching and learning activities. Theyare used to illustrate panel presentations and online tutorials and feature in published tu-torials in printed cosplay magazines. These photographs represent an entirely differentgenre of cosplay photography, one that is not usually celebrated within the communityor represented in mainstream media. Unlike in convention and photo shoot photography,people are not usually the subjects of these images. Instead objects, costume parts, tools,household appliances, are the focus of the camera. Many of these photographs are cre-

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Figure 8.8: Panel with PowerPoint slide


ated in cosplayers’ homes and may show tiny uncropped glimpses of domestic spaces,the bathrooms, bedrooms and garages where these images were captured. In contrast tothe aesthetic emphasis of other genres of cosplay photography which emphasise appeal-ing lighting and accurate framing, these images are often mundane snapshots.

This genre of photography plays an important role in the distribution of cosplay knowl-edge and skills and facilitates the development of relationships between local practition-ers and a globalised community of practice. In the absence of formal schools or classescosplay skills and knowledge can be distributed through a wide variety of means. Insome instances this occurs in face to face interactions. Renee, for example, describedhow a friend taught her the basics of corsetry in her own home as they worked with thematerials together and drank coffee.

While the learning of cosplay skills can occur through this kind physical personal inter-action, cosplay skill transmission does not always occur in face–to–face contexts. Thevariety and specificity of cosplay skills needed to complete a particular project oftenrequires a cosplayer to seek out knowledge and advice from cosplayers beyond his orher immediate local circle of acquaintances. Usually this involves the cosplayer search-ing for information online on costume and prop forums, craft websites, Pintrest andYouTube. For example, Daniel decided that he wanted to create a crepe hair goateebeard for his cosplay as “Littlefinger” from HBO’s Game of Thrones. He had no expe-rience is working with crepe hair or its adhesive, spirit gum, and needed direction andvisual instruction in its application. None of the cosplayers in Daniel’s immediate circlehad created facial hair with the product so he decided to seek information online. Herecounted to me that he had discovered a video tutorial on YouTube that showed profes-sional make–up artist explaining how to create a beard. He watched the video multipletimes before day the event at which he was to wear the beard and attempted to recreatethe technique.

Cosplayers regularly use video and photographic tutorials created by professional make–up artists, costumiers, milliners, property and special–effects artists but cosplayers them-selves will also create their own tutorials for the use of other practitioners. In creatingmy “Allen Schezar” costume I used a photographic tutorial posted on a cosplayer’s blogwhich explained how to create puffed sleeves. In the written text the cosplayer describedthe creation of puffed sleeves for her “Hilde” cosplay from the game series Soul Cal-ibur. The blog post included a series of embedded images including photographs of the

8.6. TUTORIAL PHOTOGRAPHY 243

pattern, the cut fabric, the gathering of the fabric through stitching and the sleeve beingsewn into the arm hole. Photographs also depicted the cosplayer wearing the completedoutfit and carrying prop weaponry.

When attempting the most difficult aspect of the sleeve, the gathering of the fabricthrough hand stitching, I worked in front of my computer with the page displayed on-screen so I could compare my work to the depictions of the process in the tutorial. Iobserved the shape, checked the space between the stitched to visually confirm that Iwas performing the technique correctly. Through the use of photographs I was able tomaterially recreate another cosplayer’s work in another time and location.

Like the competitors’ construction narratives described in Chapter 7, photographic se-quences allow the viewer to trace an object through its transformations. Returning tothe original example of panel photograph, the images displayed on the PowerPoint slidedepict the costume object at various stages in its assembly process. Placed in relationto one another and the finished object itself, which the presenter displayed during thepanel, these photographs play with cultural time by enabling viewers to imagine the ob-ject at various stages, not only in its completed form. This sense of sequence is essentialfor cosplayers attempting to recreate the same processes at home as practitioners needto recreate each stage in order if they want their finished assembly to resemble that ofthe original cosplayer. Furthermore, in performing techniques such as antiquing or gath-ering cosplayers must pay careful attending to visual features colour, shape, spacing.In the absence of face–to–face demonstration photographs and videos provide a visualmodel for the accurate reproduction of techniques.

Makovicky (2010) in her study of Slavic lace–making practices has argued that recordsof craft practice including patterns and images can play a role in the distribution ofpractices across time and locations. Through the uploading of tutorial pages and videoscosplay knowledge and techniques can be accessed by cosplayers online. Cosplayers inAdelaide can access tutorials created by practitioners in Sydney, Kyoto or Vancouver.If the hosting site continues to run a tutorial can be available for years. Tutorials thatare recognised as useful by members of the community may be shared by cosplayers,either privately through personal recommendation or publically by posting a link to thetutorial on cosplay forums and sites.

The distribution of cosplay knowledge through photographic tutorials may initially ap-


pear a rather sterile and overtly formalised means of communicating crafts skills. Inrelation to lacemaking Makovicky (2010) reported that some of her participants expe-rienced a divide between the patterns and practice as the printed texts of the publishedpatterns were deemed to be too far removed from the sensorial experiences of lace-making. While tutorial photographs and videos also cannot fully capture or transmitthe embodied experience of performing craft techniques, I would argue that cosplayersexperience less alienation from these instructional images. This is mostly due to theprocesses of production of cosplay tutorials. Many tutorials are created by cosplayersfor cosplayers. Cosplayers also tend to personalise these tutorials including jokes, car-toons, photographs or video footage of their homes, friends and family. Cosplayers inAustralia reported occasionally contacting tutorial creators through messaging, email orcomments and were able to communicate directly with the creator. In this way photo-graphic and video tutorials echo the face–to–face transmission of cosplay knowledge asskills are transmitted from one cosplayer’s living room to the next, though one cosplayermay be in Toronto and the other in Western Sydney.

8.7 Conclusion: Happening Things – Assembled Ob-jects and Distributed Selves

In Hobart to attend the local Anime Island Convention (AICon) I was browsing in oneof the city’s many second hand bookstores when I discovered a copy of the JapaneseCosplay magazine COSTume Mode (COSMODE). Struck by the serendipity of findinga Japanese cosplay magazine in a tiny Australian store the day before a local convention,I immediately decided to purchase it. The young male store assistant recognised the titleand asked if I was going to AICon.

Back in my hotel room that afternoon, I was flicking through the pages of the magazine,admiring the detailed work of the Japanese cosplayers, when I noticed a photographof a cosplayer dressed as Kusuri–uri. Kusuri–uri was the character I was intending thecosplay at the convention. I showed the photograph to my partner Patrick and we spentsome time comparing the cosplay in the magazine with my costume which was currentlydraped over an armchair.

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This small instance of serendipity is nonetheless an illustration of the ability of cosplayphotography to traverse space and time, to connect local events and practitioners withglobal communities of practice. Referencing the meme quoted at the start of chapter, Ihave argued that ‘Pics’ are things that make things ‘happen’. Photographic images andactivities are essential to the recreation of cosplay as a practice.

What role can digital photography and photographic practices play in shaping a het-erogenous and dispersed practice into a recognisable, relatively continuous entity? Toexplain photography’s many roles in cosplay I have followed the example of manycosplayers and I have traced the production and consumption contexts of each image.Ethnographic analyses inspired by the work of Gell (1998) have argued that photographsare both assembled and distributed (Edwards, 2012; Hirsch, 2004; Bell, 2008). Pho-tographs can be ‘distributed objects’ performing different roles when shared online aspart of a cosplay ‘art nexus’ (Gell, 1998). Cosplay photographs can also function asan aspect of ‘distributed personhood’ (Gell, 1998); through ongoing processes of ‘ob-jectification’ (Miller, 1987) cosplayers and photographers create and recreate images asextensions of self. Gell’s (1998) concepts of distributed objects and personhood allowthe ethnographer to examine the affective and functional aspects of photography, to ex-plore the active role of photographs within the practice and the work they do in formingrelationships and maintaining aesthetic styles.

Cosplay photographs are assemblages, the product of collaboration between cosplayerand photographer. These assemblages can be performative and improvisatory as creatorsdraw upon found texts, objects, spaces and actors. Cosplay photographs can functionas playful re–interpretations of pre–existing texts as cosplayers and photographers worktogether to create fantasy images that re–imagine characters in new settings and situa-tions. This play can continue online through the display and interaction with uploadedimages as further actors contribute to the assemblage and its interpretation.

Due to the close association between producers and product cosplay photographs can bedeeply personalised digital objects. Within Australian communities of practice photo-graphic images are far more than representations or remediations. Cosplay photographywhen displayed online on Facebook can act as an extension of self for both cosplayerand photographer. Through these distributed selves cosplayers are able to negotiate theirposition within communities. Sharing and displaying photographs online enables cos-players to establish and reaffirm friendships and acquaintances with other practitioners


met offline at events.

The online distribution of photography also recreates cosplay’s aesthetic values as wellcommunity–specific knowledge and competences across time and space. As shoot pho-tography, convention snaps and other images are shared and evaluated on Facebook,aesthetic judgements are made by practitioners and images are accepted or rejected asexamples of the practice. This role of photography in actively recreating the practice isperhaps most clearly evident in the less spectacular tutorial and panel imagery which isused to convey cosplay techniques and knowledge. In creating and posting photographictutorials cosplayers share skills and practice–specific knowledge with cosplayers withinlocal Australian communities and beyond. Techniques captured and distributed in pho-tographic images may be used in localised costume assembly activities. A crepe hairtutorial created in the United States may be used to create a beard in Adelaide. In otherethnographic contexts photography may play a supporting role in the creation and main-tenance of communities and practices. However, in the context of cosplay photographyis absolutely integral to the recreation and distribution of the practice.

Chapter 9

Conclusion: Creativity and the(re)Creation of Practice and PracticeTheories

Throughout the duration of this research project I regularly encountered confused, curi-ous or occasionally hostile responses to the practice of cosplay itself, and my decisionto study cosplay for an anthropological thesis. Memorable responses came from ananthropologist who joked that cosplayers were ‘probably mentally ill’, a dinner–partyguest who claimed that I and the cosplay community were wasting taxpayer dollars, anda job interview panel who laughed in my face when I explained cosplay and my researchproject. The cosplayers themselves, however, did not seem to find the idea of cosplayas a research subject very unusual. Many of them commented to me that they thoughtI was very fortunate to be able to immerse myself in the world of cosplay seven days aweek for the purposes of postgraduate study.

Negative reactions towards my decision to study cosplayers are understandable whenplaced within the contexts of the ‘Othering’ and trivialisation often directed towardscosplayers by outsiders. As Jenkins (1992) has argued, until recently fan produc-ers/consumers, including cosplayers, have been ridiculed by mainstream media andlargely ignored by sociological research. Within anthropology studies of dress prac-tices, and indeed consumption more generally, have only gained popularity since thelast decades of the twentieth–century with the development of a renewed interest in

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248 CHAPTER 9. CONCLUSION

material culture (Appadurai, 1986; Miller, 1987). Despite pioneering work by Sim-mel and others, it has taken long time for a distinctive anthropology of dress to de-velop (Hansen, 2004; Eicher, 1995). This is due in part to dresss perceived culturalassociations with feminisation, artificiality, triviality and surfaces, associations whichhave been later heavily critiqued or explored (Strathern, 1979; Woodward, 2007b). Itis therefore not surprising that there has been little ethnographic research conducted onthe practice and communities of costume–play.

However, an ethnographic study of cosplay can provide a new context for the explo-ration of some of anthropology’s most contemporary concerns: globalisation, consump-tion, performance, embodiment, identity and digitisation. In particular a study of cos-play can be used to explore ideas of practice, performance and process, concepts whichunderpin many of these emerging Post–Structuralist fields in anthropology.

As a highly heterogenous and dynamic practice, cosplay is a fertile field in which to testthe limits of practice and community of practice as concepts. Cosplay contrasts stronglywith many of the craft, dress and performance practices studied by anthropologists. Itis a developing practice with few formal structures and organisations. Cosplay appearsto be constantly moving and changing, lacking routinisation. There are no formallyrecognised bodies of techniques. Its cultural products are markedly varied as are itspractitioners biographies. To outsiders cosplay may appear barely structured, a series ofperformance moments across time, a set of distantly related material objects.

In many ways the practice of cosplay in Australia challenges more traditional conceptsof practice (Bourdieu, 1990; Giddens, 1984; Shove et al., 2012) and practice commu-nities (Lave and Wenger, 1991; Wenger, 1998). However, as I have argued throughoutthis thesis, despite its ephemerality, variety and dynamism cosplay in Australia doesexist as a practice, as Giddens’ (1984) continuous entity, spanning time and space. It isunderpinned by a number of structuring aesthetic and ethical principles: accuracy, com-pletism, spectacle, amateurism, and creativity, which are recreated and reinterpreted bycosplay practitioners.

Throughout this thesis I have explored the apparent paradox of cosplay: how can such afragmented and diverse set of objects, individuals and performances function as contin-uous practice? How can practitioners identify certain performances as ‘cosplay’? Howare skills and knowledge shared in the absence of structuring organisations? How do

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practitioners determine what is good cosplay in competitions?

To address these questions I have argued that cosplay practice is created and recreatedthrough assembly, negotiation and distribution processes. Inspired by the elementalmodel of practice developed by Shove et al. (2012), I have outlined an alternate modelof cosplay as a practice in Australia, characterising the practice as a number of ele-ments: meanings, materials, competences, practitioners and communities. Throughoutthis thesis I have explored how these elements come to be associated through the ev-eryday activities of cosplayers. I have also drawn on anthropological material cultureand performance approaches to better explore how ‘practices–as–performances’ createand recreate ‘practices–as–entities’ (Schatzki et al., 2000; Reckwitz, 2002). Many con-temporary material culture and performance studies focus on the production of culturethrough practice and process. However, unlike many well–used generalised theories ofpractice, these studies tend to give greater focus to the micro actions of practitioners andtheir lived experience of practice.

Drawing on perspectives from material culture and performance studies, particularlythe theoretical contributions of Miller (1987), Gell (1998), Goffman (1990) and Turnerand Schechner (1988), I have argued that meanings, materials, competences, practition-ers and communities are not connected through straightforward routinisation. Insteadthese elements are interconnected in ongoing assembly, negotiation and distribution pro-cesses.

Cosplay as creative and recreative practice can be best exemplified in a final ethno-graphic example. Cosplayer Daniel decided to rewrite the lyrics of a popular song, DaftPunk’s ‘Get Lucky’, with text referring to cosplay:

We’re up all night to the sun,We’ll work all night ‘til it’s done,We’re up all night for our cosplay.

(‘Up All Night for Our Cosplay’ lyrics)

The song referenced, among other things, the processes and frustrations of cosplay as-sembly, the creativity of cosplayers in repurposing household items, the discomfort ofwearing costumes and a shared love of participating in the practice of cosplay. Thesong, with its reworked lyrics, was shaped into an a capella arrangement which was per-formed by cosplay circle, The Con Artists, as a skit for local convention competitions.


The song was later re–performed and recorded as part of a music video clip developedby The Con Artists and a local film maker. The video was uploaded online on YouTubeand shared through Facebook.

The song is the product of assembly, negotiation and distribution processes. It is anassemblage of various elements: texts, technologies, skills, materials, spaces (on andoffline), practitioners and audiences. It is the product of a series of negotiations: thelyricists negotiations with his source text, the performers negotiations with their audi-ences, and the negotiations between filmmaker and cosplay circle in the production ofthe video clip. It has been distributed through performance, through digital versionsshared online and through the shared memories of participants.

This little song, as an assembled and distributed cultural product, also recreates themeanings and competences of cosplay practice and broader communities of practice.The song is a reflexive commentary on the nature of the practice. It celebrates ideas ofcreativity, amateurism, and accuracy which are key structuring principles of the practice.It was created through the assembly of cosplay competences and knowledge: dress com-petences, photographic skills, knowledge of performance and video genres. As a dis-tributed performance it also facilitated the relationships between multiple practitioners:the co–creators of the live performance and their audience, the cosplayers and the film-maker, and the co–creators of the film and their online audience. All aspects of cosplay– values, aesthetics, costume objects, performances, photographs, even practitioners andcommunities – are assembled and remade through practices–as–performances.

My ethnography has focused on practices–as–performances, the numerous activitiesthat together form the practice of cosplay in Australia. In particular I have exploredhow cosplayers creatively assemble their cultural products. Focusing on the productsof cosplay – costumes, performances and photography – has enabled me to trace thepractice through multiple sites and dispersed practitioners.

This study of cosplay builds upon major themes of assemblage, distribution and nego-tiation developed in recent ethnographic work in both material culture and performancestudies. Expanding upon existing discussions of agency and negotiation in other cul-tural contexts, this study of cosplay further demonstrates that dressed bodies can besites of contestation between conflicting community values; performances can provideopportunities for reflexive contemplation of key community ideals.

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Explorations of negotiation in dress literature and performance literature tend to focuson the ways that dress, or other forms of performance, can involve the negotiation ofwider concerns of gender, ethnicity, sexuality, religion, or modernity. In these studiesthe dress, theatrical or ritual performance is identified as a ’flash point’ (Hansen, 2004,p.372) around which wider cultural concerns can be debated. However, in this thesisI have demonstrated that negotiations can also take place within the framing of thecommunity of practice itself. Cosplay performances are can be sites in which aspects ofsexuality, gender and ethnicity are contested (Lunning, 2011; Truong, 2013), but theyare also the sites of internal negotiations. Negotiations can be practice or craft-specificas practitioners contest traditions, dominant aesthetics, and ethical values.

Chapter 5 explicitly examined the contested role of dressed bodies in the practice.Through participating in body projects, social dressing activities, competition perfor-mances and in panels and blogs, cosplayers negotiate competing values and debate themeaning of the practice itself. This conflict does not paralyse cosplay communities butinstead inspires further recreations and variations in the practice as individual cosplayersnegotiate their own position in relation to the debate.

The role of negotiation in performance is likewise a central theme of Chapter 7. In com-petition performance contexts cosplayers must negotiate conflicting community valuesas they attempt to assemble themselves as ‘master’ cosplayers. Like many other el-ements of cosplay practice, mastery is assembled, negotiated and distributed throughpractice. Competitors must cohere often conflicting cosplay values in their dressed bod-ies, competition interview narratives and prepared skits. If the qualities of mastery areunited in the performance of a cosplayer this performance is then distributed throughoutthe community in the forms of photographs, videos and objects. Like costume objects,masters are also made and remade.

Exploring the negotiations of internal logics is crucial to gaining a better understandingof how specific practices function and are recreated; how individuals and communitieseach shape practices; how structures are created and contested.

The thesis contributes further to the development of the concepts of assemblage anddistribution identified in anthropological studies of performance and material culture. Incosplay, as in many other contemporary dress and performance practices, relationshipsbetween individuals, communities, skills and objects are constantly being made and


unmade. Yet these temporary assemblages have the ability to create and recreate apractice as a continuous entity.

Ideas of assemblage and distribution tend to be used in material culture and performancestudies as a means of describing micro-relations: the relationship of an artisan to theirwork, or the relationship between performer and audience. These small-scale processescan have great cultural significance but a study of cosplay further demonstrates howthese same processes can occur on a more macro level of practice communities, as thecommunity itself is also brought together and dispersed.

In Chapter 3, I explored the ways that cosplay values, including practice–specific formsof ‘skilled vision’ (Grasseni, 2007), are articulated and taught in convention panel per-formances. These temporary gatherings of novices, practitioners, and outsiders providea reflexive context in which the meanings of the practice are made and remade.

The role of assemblage in (re)creation was also a central theme of Chapter 4. In thischapter I examined the (re)creation of costume objects as process of assembly, of texts,materials, practitioners and communities. In assembling cosplay costumes cosplayersnot only recreate existing designs in the form of wearable objects but assemble andnegotiate themselves as members of a practice community. It is in the processes ofassembling a costume that cosplayers develop practice–specific skills and enact cosplayvalues and aesthetics.

The hallway performances of Chapter 6 appear like a microcosm of the practice it-self. These performances are temporary assemblages, fleeting moments when cosplay-ers and spectators come together. Like other aspects of cosplay practice hallway perfor-mances can appear random and chaotic as spatial boundaries, roles and participation–frameworks can shift in an instant. However, despite these shifts participants in hallwayperformances are involved in framing and meaning–making activities. These perfor-mances are the product of ongoing negotiations between performer intentions and spec-tator interpretations.

In the final chapter I examined the role of photography and video in the recreation ofpractice and community. Photographs and videos as assembled and distributed objectsperform important work in establishing practitioner relationships, facilitating commu-nity events, providing opportunities for contests of distinction and transmitting practice–specific skills and knowledge. Drawing on the work of Gell (1998) I have argued that

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cosplay photographs are assembled and distributed objects which perform importantwork within a cosplay art nexus. Photographs and videos assemble and distribute cos-play practice and communities.

A more dynamic model of practice that recognises practices as being constantly madeand unmade may provide a means of understanding other ephemeral practices, includingdigital, sub-cultural, and grass-roots political movements.

In essence this thesis has attempted to examine the nature of recreation and creativityin practice. How can theories of practice account for both reproduction and variation?Structure and agency? Order and conflict? Cosplay, as a practice where a practitionercan recreate one character design in four different ways provides an excellent case studyfor exploring these issues.

This thesis is itself an assemblage. In attempting to characterise and explain the practiceof cosplay I have drawn together multiple theoretical perspectives including generalisedpractice theories, anthropological material culture approaches and performance studiesapproaches .In particular I have argued that the emphasis on dynamism and negotiationfound in material culture and performance perspectives can provide an expansion orcorrection of more generalist theories of practice.

In this thesis I have attempted to assemble a model of practice which could have broaderapplications. Cosplay may be diverse and dynamic but it is not the only practice whichcould be described in this way. Many other contemporary practices share cosplay’sephemerality, dispersed populations and varied cultural products. A model of practicewhich depicts practices as emerging through the assembly, negotiation and distributionof elements may provide a means of exploring emerging and changing practices.

To outsiders cosplay may appear a strange and trivial practice, apparently of little con-cern to those aiming to study broader social movements and forces. However, anthro-pology has a long history of concerning itself with the apparently exotic and trivial.Perhaps the discipline’s greatest contribution to the understanding of human culturesand societies is its ethnographic methodology which explores everyday lived experi-ences of individuals and communities, micro–actions, material objects and performancemoments as a means of understanding broader trends and movements. In this thesis Ihave argued that anthropological studies of materiality and performance with their fo-cus on practices are well–positioned to address key weaknesses in broader, generalist


theorist of practice. In this way I hope that my small assemblage of a thesis can alsoengage with and (re)create broader discussions of practice and process.

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